Decisions and Destiny Part Two
by BeachBum3668
Summary: The continuing post-Endgame adventures of the Voyager crew.
1. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

"Admiral, the Borg are here."

The quietly phrased statement rendered the Starfleet officers linked to the call momentarily speechless. It did not, however, silence the former Borg drone accompanying them.

"How many ships, Lieutenant?" she demanded, "How many drones?" Seven of Nine accessed long-unused tactical assimilation data in an effort to try and predict where the Collective might strike.

"One vessel confirmed, but we are having sensor difficulties. The transwarp corridor may still be open and there may be other vessels on the way."

Kathryn Janeway recovered her voice before the admirals. "What's its course and speed? Can we project what system it's targeting for assimilation?"

The Vulcan officer from DS7 who had initially reported the incursion was strangely silent. The urgency of the situation prompted Janeway to bark "Report, Lieutenant!"

"To the best of our knowledge, Captain, the Borg vessel is stationary."

"Stationary? Are you trying to tell me that a Borg cube just popped out of a transwarp corridor in the Alpha quadrant and _stopped?_"

"According to our ships on site that is precisely what it did, Captain."

Admiral Nechayev finally found her voice. Glaring at Seven as if she were somehow at fault, she interjected, "Has the Borg vessel made any kind of aggressive move? Has it attempted contact of any kind?"

"No, Admiral," replied Lieutenant Sepik as he leaned slightly to his right to accept a PADD from Ensign Bel the junior officer in DS4 Ops. He consulted it briefly before replying, "The _**Daran**_ reports no communication on any subspace band and the _**Shenandoah**_, which was the first ship on site, says that is hasn't so much as opened an airlock door. The Borg shields are up, but even when the _**Shenandoah **_fired on it, it did not return fire. When the _**Daran**_ arrived they took up flanking positions around the vessel and are observing it."

"What do we have on the way?"

Lieutenant Commander Tripp looked down to consult a PADD in his hand. "The moment we had confirmation of the Borg vessel's incursion we issued a nine-sector alert. There are currently twelve ships – four battleships, three dreadnaughts and six destroyers – enroute to the scene at maximum warp. The first of them should arrive within a few minutes; they all should be on site within forty."

"We'll need a site commander," commented Patterson, "What ships are on the way?"

"The battleships _**Andromeda**_, _**Korolev**_, _**Proteus**_ and _**Reliant**_. The dreadnaughts _**Belisius**_, _**Kearsarge**_ and _**Niagara**_. And the destroyers _**Cochise**_, _**Fletcher**_, _**Honshu**_, _**Loki**_, _**Reprisal**_ and _**Tangent**_."

"The _**Reliant**_ is Matt Shepherd's ship, right? He'd be the senior commander," commented Admiral Ross as Nechayev nodded in agreement. "Commander Tripp, relay instructions to Captain Shepherd to assume comman…"

"Excuse me, Admiral," interjected Lieutenant Sepik, "But we're getting a communication from the Borg Vessel."

"On screen!" Nechayev commanded.

The familiar artificial voice of the Borg sounded harsh in the comfortable den of the Indiana farmhouse. The psychological effect of it remained as always; an unconscious frisson of dread that snaked into the guts. But as the message unfolded shock replaced dread and all eyes focused on the former captain of Voyager.

"**_WE ARE THE FREE BORG. OUR INTENTIONS ARE NOT HOSTILE. WE CARRY A MESSAGE FOR THE FEDERATION. WE MUST SPEAK WITH JANEWAY_.**"

Admiral Nechayev's voice was icy as she stared at Janeway. "Explain, Captain!"

Janeway looked confused as she replied, "Admiral?"

"The Borg are in the Alpha quadrant. They demand to speak with _you_. There's a Borg drone standing next to you. Connect the dots! I want an explanation and I want it now!"

"How would I know why they're here?" Kathryn asked in genuine puzzlement.

"What about the drone? Does _she_ have an explanation?" snapped Nechayev.

"My fiancée doesn't know anything more about this than I do," exploded Janeway, "and I resent your implication that she does!"

"**_WE ARE THE FREE BORG. OUR INTENTIONS ARE NOT HOSTILE. WE CARRY A MESSAGE FOR THE FEDERATION. WE MUST SPEAK WITH JANEWAY._**"

Seven knew the exchange could spiral out of control quickly and laid a gentle hand on Kathryn's shoulder.

"Kathryn," she said quietly, "the admiral is upset as are we all. We must put aside personal feelings and decide how best to respond."

"Dr. Hansen, could you discern _anything_ from the message?" asked Patterson.

"No, Admiral. It is not a standard Borg hail and I have never known the Collective to use anything but the hails with which we are all familiar." She frowned slightly for a moment and then said with an audible intake of breath, "Unless…"

Turning to Janeway she said urgently, "Kathryn, they referred to themselves as _Free_ Borg. Could it be from General Korok?"

Janeway's eyes popped. "Korok! My God, I never thought…" she spun to face Nechayev on the COMM screen. "Admiral, you can cross-reference information on General Korok in Voyager's logs of Stardate…" she looked up questioningly at Seven.

"Stardate 54014.4," supplied her fiancée promptly.

"…of Stardate 54014.4: subheading Unimatrix Zero. In the meantime might I suggest we buy ourselves some time? Contact the Borg vessel: tell them that I'm on my way into Headquarters and will contact them when I arrive there. How they respond to that will give us a pretty good idea of their intentions."

Admiral Patterson broke in. "It's a good idea. Tripp, you make contact; we'll monitor their response from here. And Commander Tripp?"

"Yes, Admiral?"

"Launch a couple of shuttles to my coordinates. There are quite a few of us here who will need to make the trip into Headquarters."

"Aye, aye Admiral." Tripp looked to his right and nodded at the unseen officer there. "Very well, Lieutenant." Swinging back to face the main view screen he continued, "Admiral, we're ready to transmit our reply at your command."

"Proceed," ordered Nechayev flatly. The screen switched to a view of the Borg vessel. Seven of Nine and Janeway looked at each other. Seven quietly gave her relevant information.

"It is a tactical probe, Kathryn. Complement, 150 drones. Like the one we inadvertently blew up trying to immobilize it." Janeway nodded and the admirals looked at them questioningly.

"Long story; I'll tell you on the shuttle," said Janeway returning her attention to the COMM screen. Starfleet's reply echoed from the speakers.

"This is Starfleet Headquarters. We have received your transmission. Captain Janeway has been notified of your arrival and is enroute. She will contact you when she arrives. We repeat. Transmission received. Janeway is enroute and will contact you when she arrives." All eyes were glued to their screens and collective breaths were unconsciously held.

"_**ACKNOWLEDGED, STARFLEET. WE WILL HOLD POSITION UNTIL CONTACTED BY JANEWAY. STANDING BY.**"_

Breathing resumed and tense shoulders relaxed. "Understood. Starfleet, out."

Nechayev glared at Kathryn. "Get here immediately. We're setting up in the conference room adjacent to the Command Center. Nechayev out." The COMM unit went blank.

Kathryn swiveled the chair to face the complement of admirals behind her. "Well, I guess I'd better get into uniform, hadn't I? Seven, could you get B'Elanna and Tom and Harry and the EMH? I want as many of our senior staff with us as possible. The more people we have at HQ who have actually _dealt_ with the Borg the better."

The group headed back out to the party only to be brought up short as Janeway stopped dead in the living room. Her senior staff was seated around the room having been gathered there by Ensign Radcliffe, her aide.

"What's going on, Captain?" inquired B'Elanna for the group as they rose to their feet.

Owen Paris spoke up. "B'Elanna, you'd better give Miral to my wife; we're going to need all of you at Headquarters. A Borg probe just popped out of a transwarp conduit near DS7 and they apparently wish to speak with your former captain. Shuttles are on the way."

"Yes, sir!" replied B'Elanna, grabbing Tom as the officers and Starfleet brass headed back into the yard.

"Dammit!" snapped Janeway, rubbing her chin in annoyance.

"What is the matter, Kathryn?"

"I just realized I don't have a uniform here and Mom's replicator won't handle clothing. I'll have to wait until I get to HQ to change."

"We have more pressing concerns, Kathryn."

"What?"

"We are going to need to explain to your mother and sister why we are leaving our own party. And we have to pack."

"Oh, shit!" The two women raced upstairs.

Outside in the yard Phoebe watched the senior officers of Voyager make their excuses to family and friends as she listened to the sound of the arriving shuttles. She wrapped her arm around her mother's shoulders and sighed heavily as they watched Kathryn and Seven approach with their carryalls on their shoulders.

"Well, at least they stayed long enough to eat."

* * *

The flight to Headquarters was short but the conversation was spirited as Janeway brought her staff up to speed on events near DS7. Everyone avoided speculating on why the probe was there. Instead, they focused on the events surrounding Voyager's fight with the Collective over Unimatrix Zero assuming it would become a popular topic once they arrived at HQ. Ensign Radcliffe soaked up every word like a sponge.

The shuttles touched down a few minutes later in a hardened, underground hangar adjacent to Headquarters. They were greeted by a grim-faced security detail whose leader assembled everyone, tapped his COMM badge and ordered "Energize!" They rematerialized in the conference room next to the Command Center. Several seconds later the ionized blue sparkles brought the admirals from the second shuttle to join them. Admiral Nechayev came through the door with Lieutenant Commander Tripp and everyone took a seat. Tripp passed out PADDS to everyone explaining that they contained Voyager's logs pertaining to the events surrounding Unimatrix Zero.

Nechayev opened the briefing by asking Janeway to summarize the Unimatrix Zero confrontation with the Collective. As she recounted events Seven and the rest of the senior staff added additional events and perspectives to the narrative. When they had finished Nechayev began the questioning.

"And you never heard from this Korok again?"

"We maintained communication as long as we could. We knew that he had linked up with another Borg vessel which had been taken over by freed drones from Unimatrix Zero and that they were planning on continuing the fight against the Collective, but beyond that, no. We never heard from him again."

"And you suspect that this, what did you call it …this _tactical probe_ bears a message from him?"

"Admiral, we won't know anything definite until we talk to them."

Admiral Ross broke in. "Alynna, she's right. She's given us everything she knows. Until we understand what they want it's all speculation anyway. Captain Janeway needs to make contact and learn what this is all about."

"I agree," commented Admiral Patterson. "Until Kathryn sits down and talks with them all we're doing is playing a guessing game. It's time we got some hard facts."

Admiral Nechayev nodded, although it appeared reluctantly. She tapped her COMM badge and issued a terse order. As she rose from the table a security officer entered the room.

"Seven of Nine stays here. Everybody else can watch on the secondary view screens in the command center," she said as she gathered her PADDS.

"You wait one damned minute!" bellowed Janeway in a fury. Propelled violently backward by her leap to her feet, her chair crashed into a credenza. The muscles in her jaw bulged as her teeth clenched. "I've had enough of your attitude! Seven is a senior member of my crew. Her insights saved our lives against the Borg more times than you've even _seen_ the Borg. She gets an apology right now and is standing next to me when I talk with the Borg or you can have my resignation!"

"As you were, _Captain!_" barked Nechayev, freezing Kathryn in place. "Do you honestly think I'd let a former Borg drone with a functioning interlink node into our COMMAND center while you talk with other drones? That's a security nightmare waiting to happen!"

"Attention! Fleet Admiral on deck!" barked Radcliffe springing to attention from his seat along the wall. Everyone in the room rose to attention as Neil Quinn, Chief of Operations and Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet, entered the room with his adjutant close behind.

"As you were," he said easily as he took a seat at the conference table. "I understand the Borg came calling. What are we doing about it?"

"Sir, we've got twelve fast attack ships either on site or very close to being so. The Borg vessel is holding position, waiting to speak with Captain Janeway. The runabout, _**Shenandoah**_, fired on the Borg vessel when it first exited its transwarp corridor, but the Borg vessel has not returned fire. So far, it's a standoff," replied Admiral Nechayev.

"And we don't know why they want to speak with the captain? Why Captain Janeway and not Seven of Nine? Forgive me, young lady, or do you prefer Dr. Hansen?" The commander of Starfleet smiled engagingly at Seven as he asked the question.

"Seven of Nine is sufficient, Admiral Quinn. We believe that the Borg vessel may carry a message from Korok, a Klingon general and former drone. We severed his connection to the hive mind when we infected the Collective with a virus on Stardate 54014.4 and he has been fighting a civil war within the Collective ever since."

"So it's possible that whatever these Borg have to say could be either very good or very bad news for the Federation. Well, we'll never know until we talk to them. Are you ready, Captain Janeway?"

"Yes sir, I am. But I won't speak with them unless Seven is with me. Her experience with the Collective will be critical."

"I assumed she _would_ be with you. Seems kind of…inefficient… to waste such a valuable resource. Why? Was there some reason you thought she wouldn't be?"

Janeway refrained from glancing at Nechayev. Instead, she opted for a more generic comment. "Let's just say her reception from Starfleet hasn't been very warm to date."

"I suppose I can understand why you'd say that. Why don't we try to start over since she's going to be a major player this evening? It would make everyone's life a lot simpler if animosity wasn't thrown into the mix." Rising, he strode around the table to stand next to Seven of Nine and extended his hand. "How do you do, Dr. Hansen? I'm Neil Quinn, Chief of Operations for Starfleet. Welcome home."

The corner of Seven's mouth quirked upward in amusement as she shook the offered hand. "I am very pleased to meet you, Admiral Quinn. It is good to be…home. Please call me Seven of Nine."

"I certainly hope we can count on your help tonight, Dr. Hansen…Seven. We haven't had much luck in the past where the Borg are concerned."

"I will do all I can to assist, Admiral Quinn."

"Thank you," Quinn headed for the door. "Now, shall we listen to what the Borg have to say? Captain Janeway, if you and Seven will come with me we'll get started."

"Sir?' interrupted Nechayev. "She still has a neural interface. If there are any drones on that vessel still connected to the hive mind there is a strong possibility that Seven of Nine could be…inadvertently…linked back with the Collective. It poses a security risk."

"I cannot interface with the Collective through my interlink node. For it to function through the hive mind would require implants which have been removed from my body. The first of which was my neural transceiver. I _cannot_ reconnect with the Collective unless I am re-assimilated." Seven smiled her small smile at Nechayev. "And Admiral, I have no intention of ever being re-assimilated. I will die first."

"That's good enough for me," replied Admiral Quinn, "Now let's get down to business. I, for one, would very much like to hear what these 'Free Borg' have to say." Those still seated rose and followed them into the Command Center.

Janeway and Seven took seats in front of the main view screen as the rest of the group gathered around secondary screens at one side of the room.

"We're ready when you are, Captain," said one of the COMM officers quietly at a nod from Quinn.

"Open a channel, Ensign," commanded Janeway. When the image of the Borg probe filled the view screens she hailed the ship. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway. I have Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01 with me. Why have you come to the Alpha quadrant?"

"_**WE ARE THE FREE BORG. WE CARRY A MESSAGE FOR YOU AND YOUR FEDERATION FROM GENERAL KOROK.**"_

"Is there an individual in command of your vessel?"

"_**RONNIK COMMANDS THIS VESSEL.**"_

"May we speak with Ronnik directly? Communication between individuals is easier for us than with a collective."

"_**WE WILL ESTABLISH THE LINK.**"_

A moment later the screen resolved into what would be considered the bridge area of the Borg probe. A Hirogen appeared on the screen, heavy scarring on his head and face gave mute testimony to where Borg implants had been removed.

"Greetings, Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine. I am Ronnik, Alpha of Vessel 6982. Korok sends greetings and news."

"Hello, Ronnik. How is Korok? And how goes the fight against the Collective?"

"When we began our journey to the Alpha quadrant Korok was strong and hunting Borg. The Free Borg now command over 400 ships and Korok has a strong fighting force of nearly twelve million. Our warriors continue to free drones from the Collective. But there are reports of the Borg gaining strength in some areas of the quadrant. Reports of new assimilations are coming in."

"Why is it news that the Borg are assimilating? The Borg have always assimilated," replied Seven.

Ronnik appeared uneasy with her logic. "You have not been in the Delta quadrant since you destroyed the transwarp hub. You have no knowledge of the effects of your attack."

"We would very much like to know the effects of our actions, Ronnik," prompted Janeway.

"I have tactical data from Korok and logs from his vessel since you parted after freeing us from the hive mind. If you study them you will understand why I have been sent here to warn your Federation about the Borg."

"Will you transmit those logs to us?"

Ronnik gestured to a drone to his left. "Transmitting now."

Seven of Nine had not missed the tone of Ronnik's report. "Is there something else which troubles Korok? Another reason he sent you here, Ronnik?"

The Hirogen nodded as he reached for a PADD nearby. "We received this report upon freeing a cube and the drones on it ninety-six hours ago. Their tactical updates indicate that the hive mind is once again under the control of a Queen. We found a working vinculum at the heart of the cube."

Janeway and Seven looked at each other in alarm. To their knowledge the neurolytic pathogen which Admiral Janeway carried had infected the Collective and destroyed the Queen. That there was a new Queen in place who had apparently regained control of the hive mind was disturbing news. So much so, it appeared, that Admiral Quinn caught Janeway's eye and pointed at himself. She nodded her understanding.

"Ronnik, I'm sure you can see that there are other senior officers of Starfleet present. Would you be willing to answer some of their questions if you can?"

"My instructions were to deliver these logs and the message to you, Captain Janeway. But if your Alphas have other questions I will try to answer them." Quinn and Nechayev made their way to the front of the room next to Janeway and Seven and Janeway introduced the two flag officers.

"Ronnik, this is Admiral Quinn and Admiral Nechayev. Admiral Quinn commands all of Starfleet and Admiral Nechayev commands operations in the Terran Sector." Both admirals nodded a greeting to the Hirogen Alpha. Quinn spoke first.

"Ronnik, we appreciate your coming all this way to alert us that the Borg appear to be on the rise again. But how exactly is that a warning for us?"

"The Collective had six transwarp hubs scattered throughout the quadrant. They led to all quadrants of the galaxy and all areas of those quadrants. When Voyager destroyed the Queen and one transwarp hub, three more were destroyed when Borg cubes transiting them self-destructed on orders from the Queen. But two of the hubs remained intact, although there was no Queen to control the interspatial manifolds. They remained intact, and the new Queen knows how the Collective was nearly destroyed. She knows Voyager used one of her hubs to return to the Alpha quadrant. She knows Janeway. And the Borg have wanted to assimilate your Earth since Locutus of Borg was added to the Collective. The Queen is building her forces to invade your quadrant and assimilate Earth."

Stunned silence met this declaration. Quinn, Nechayev and the other admirals exchanged worried looks as the Chief of Staff returned his attention to the view screen.

"Ronnik, do you have proof of these claims? I do not mean to doubt your word, but if we are to plan a defense or a preemptive strike to stop the Borg we'll need more information."

"We carry the logs of over two hundred vessels and the tactical data from them. You may examine these logs and we will help you decipher them if you require it." Ronnik leaned over to support the Brunali crewman next to him who suddenly doubled over. Quinn noticed.

"Ronnik, is your crew ill? Can we be of assistance?"

"We are not ill, Alpha Quinn. But the suppressing medications we must all take to control the rejection of our implants can sometimes cause negative side effects."

Quinn made a snap decision. "Ronnik, we have physicians who are very skilled at removing Borg implants; two in particular. Would you consider bringing your vessel to our Terran sector? That way we can decipher the logs and develop a threat assessment and our physicians can give you all the assistance available. I also have another idea I would like to discuss with you when you arrive here, if you're willing to do so."

Ronnik considered the offer for a moment. "Thank you Alpha Quinn. My crew would appreciate any help you can offer and we will help you to understand the threat facing your world as best we can."

Quinn issued orders for the _**Daran**_, _**Andromeda**_ and _**Reliant**_ to escort the Borg ship to McKinley Station. As acknowledgment came from their commanders that they were standing by he sent coordinates and course headings to Ronnik's vessel and bid him a safe journey. When the screen went blank he turned to Janeway, Seven and the other admirals.

"Well, they're on their way here. We've got seventy-two hours to decide how we're going to deal with this possible threat before our guests arrive. I suggest we adjourn for the evening and reconvene tomorrow morning in the third floor conference room at 0900 hours. Captain Janeway, Dr. Hansen, I want both of you to join us. Your expertise will be invaluable. Any questions?"

At the mention of Seven, Nechayev scowled but kept silent. Janeway noticed her reaction, though, and bristled slightly.

"Admiral Quinn? May I suggest that members of my senior staff attend the meeting as well? All of them are very experienced in dealing with the Borg. Their input might give us additional data."

"I agree, Captain. Have them here as well. Can you think of anyone else we ought to have with us?"

"Not offhand, sir. But I –"

"Admiral, may I make a suggestion?" interjected Seven quietly.

"Of course, Dr. Hansen. What would you suggest?"

"Captain Picard and Captain Riker should be recalled to attend. They also have experience in fighting the Borg."

"You're absolutely right. Thank you for reminding me of those valuable resources." He turned to Nechayev. "Alynna, please see to it that _**Enterprise**_ and _**Titan**_ are recalled immediately. I want Picard and Riker with us when we talk with the Borg."

Admiral Nechayev nodded her acquiescence and decided to play a trump card of her own. "I think Commander Shelby should also be in attendance, Admiral."

Quinn frowned for a moment as he tried to remember to whom Nechayev was referring. When the memory surfaced he smiled and nodded in agreement. "Yes, she _is_ considered our resident expert on the Borg, isn't she? Well, make sure she's here too; if nothing else she'll learn a thing or two from the folks who've actually _dealt_ with the Borg. See to it, Alynna."

With that he bade everyone in the room good night and left, pointedly ignoring the look of extreme displeasure on Admiral Nechayev's face.


	2. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

When Janeway and Seven emerged from the Control Center the rest of Voyager's senior staff leapt to their feet and gathered around the couple. Quietly, Janeway and Seven brought them up to date on what had transpired and informed them of the strategy meeting the following morning. Janeway asked all of them to review any personal logs they might have concerning the Borg. More specifically their interactions with the Collective when Seven had been kidnapped by the Borg, Unimatrix Zero and their final interaction when they blasted through the transwarp hub and back into the Alpha quadrant. Everyone agreed to prep for the remainder of the night and meet at Janeway's home for breakfast the next morning.

Janeway and Seven gathered their carryalls and bid good night to the senior staff and the admirals still discussing the evening's events. Radcliffe had organized a hovercraft for them and the driver was waiting at the main entrance of Headquarters. He walked them to the cab and then excused himself to secure overnight accommodations in the transient BOQ at Headquarters. Janeway and Seven climbed into the cab and in a few short minutes were walking through the gate of Fremont Lane returning to their home.

The next morning Radcliffe arrived first and went into the kitchen to organize enough coffee for everyone while Seven put together a feast of french toast and sausage. By the time Janeway had emerged from the shower and finished dressing the aromas emanating from the kitchen drew her like a magnet. Radcliffe caught sight of her as she walked out of the master bedroom and by the time she reached the kitchen island had a fresh mug of coffee poured and ready for her. Nodding her thanks, she moved to answer the door chime that heralded the arrival of the rest of the senior staff.

The breakfast meeting was lively and Radcliffe soaked up the stories Voyager's officers told of their adventures. He had, of course, studied the Borg during his time at the Academy and knew all the conventional wisdom Starfleet possessed of the Collective, but Voyager's interactions with the Collective served to expand his understanding. The Borg Collective became almost a living entity for him as he listened to how Voyager, her captain and her crew had thwarted their attempts to assimilate and destroy the ship over and over again. Seven's observations gave an insider's perspective of the hive mind and provided a revelation to the Starfleet officers as well.

"If what Ronnik says is true the Queen isn't dead. We know that Admiral Janeway infected her with the neurolytic pathogen because she lost control of the interspatial manifolds and the entrance and exit apertures of the transwarp hub. It _had_ to have destroyed her. But now they're saying that she's not dead. I don't understand how that can be," commented B'Elanna.

"It is possible that the Queen _we_ interacted with is indeed dead. But the Collective is about survival and there is always a selected female drone ready to be elevated to Queen. The adjuncts of Unimatrix 01 all carry special programming. Each of them has abilities outside the scope of ordinary drones. Either the secondary or tertiary adjunct is always female, but only one of them at any given time. The female was typically assimilated at a young age and raised within the Collective. That adjunct will be elevated to control the hive mind in the event the existing Queen is deactivated or killed," said Seven impassively.

Every eye in the group widened and focused on her in amazement. "But, but…that would mean…then you were…but that …that's not possible…_is it?_" sputtered B'Elanna.

Janeway stared at her fiancée for a long moment. "My God, I liberated the Queen's heir apparent from the hive mind! No wonder the Borg kept coming after you: to their way of thinking I kidnapped a Borg princess. You were supposed to be the next Queen."

"That explains why you were chosen to speak for the Collective during our alliance. _And_ your insufferable arrogance," snorted B'Elanna indignantly. She caught a glimpse of Ethan and let out a hoot of laughter. _"Breathe_, Radcliffe, _breathe!"_

Tom thumped the young man on the back to jump start his diaphragm and the group around the table relaxed, chuckling. Seven regarded her partner's aide with an amused smirk on her face.

"Will this adversely affect our ability to interact, Ensign Radcliffe?"

"I... you… Borg Queen… I…no, ma'am!" he managed with an audible gulp.

"That is very good news, Ensign. I would hate to have to drink sub-standard tea every time I visit my wife at her office from now on." Radcliffe flushed red at the comment as the group howled with laughter.

"Wow…_wife_. You don't think the arrival of the Borg will delay the wedding do you?" asked Harry.

Janeway laughed at the concern in his voice. "Absolutely not, Lieutenant. Not even the Borg can stop my mother from putting this wedding on. And the Starfleet brass wouldn't _think_ of crossing her and missing it. The wedding will proceed as planned, I assure you."

Twenty minutes later the group entered the main entrance of Starfleet Headquarters and proceeded to the third floor conference room. Ethan saw to it that everyone had what they wanted to drink and then left for the transport center to take care of things at their Utopia Planetia offices.

Janeway was talking quietly with Seven, B'Elanna and Tom when a young ensign entered the room and told her there was a priority communication for her. She followed him into the COMM center and took a seat at the terminal he indicated. A moment later the screen came to life. Her former Tactical and Security Officer faced her.

"Tuvok! It's wonderful to see you, old friend. How are you feeling?"

"I am well, Captain. My treatments are complete and have been deemed successful."

"I'm so glad to hear that. When will you and T'Pel leave for Earth?"

"We should arrive at the Vulcan consulate in San Francisco early next week. We will be on Earth for the full week prior to your wedding."

"That _is_good news. There are a few get-togethers planned and I know everyone will be anxious to see you."

"I was contacted by Starfleet Security and notified that there was a Borg incursion in which you are involved. Do you require my presence earlier than planned?"

"No, my friend. Do you remember General Korok from Unimatrix Zero? He sent one of his ships here to pass along some tactical information they'd discovered. Apparently, the Collective has a new Queen and is rebuilding."

Tuvok frowned at the news. "Does Korok deem the Collective a threat to the Federation?"

"They discovered something in the tactical logs they obtained when they took over some Borg ships recently. Starfleet is working to decipher the logs and the Free Borg ship that came to warn us is enroute to McKinley Station to help us interpret the tactical data. We'll be able to build a working threat assessment once we have all the information."

"I will keep in close contact with Security and Intelligence until we depart. Please contact me immediately if the threat assessment indicates imminent danger and I will arrange transport to Headquarters."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Tuvok, but I'll let you know if I'm wrong. Either way, I'll see you soon. Give my best to T'Pel."

Tuvok made his goodbyes and signed off. As Janeway was leaving the room the ensign that had originally fetched her called her name.

"Captain Janeway? I'm sorry to keep you, but there's another communication coming in for you. I'll route it to the same screen you were on before, ma'am."

Kathryn nodded and returned to the screen as it sprang to life. Facing her from what was obviously a ready room was a distinguished looking steely-eyed Starfleet Captain. His bald head took nothing away from his handsome features and the strength of his personality resonated in his speech and demeanor. Jean-Luc Picard was a force to be reckoned with in anyone's book.

"Captain Janeway, I'm delighted you were available to take my call."

"Good morning, Captain Picard. We still have a few minutes before the first planning meeting is supposed to start. What can I do for you?"

"Is there any additional information on what the Borg are up to? We're making best possible speed, but _**Enterprise**_ won't dock at McKinley Station until very late tomorrow night. Will that put us behind?"

"I doubt it, Jean-Luc. The Borg vessel isn't due into McKinley for fifty-six hours or so. We've downloaded the tactical logs they brought with them, but Intelligence is still working on decrypting them. Until the Borg arrive and help them out we're all behind."

"Isn't Seven of Nine working on the decryption? I would think she would be the logical one to do so."

Janeway's clenched jaw told the captain of _**Enterprise**_ much more than her words did. "So far Starfleet has shown a distinct aversion to the idea of Seven helping out."

Picard shook his head, realizing just how valuable a resource Starfleet was discarding. "Perhaps we ought to speak privately as two captains who have extensive …experience …with the Borg?"

Janeway could work politics with the best of the Starfleet bureaucrats. "That might be an excellent idea, Jean-Luc. We'll have to chat when you arrive. Until then, safe journey my friend." Both officers nodded and the screen went blank. This time Janeway returned to the conference room without interruption. Taking her seat she updated her officers on the results of the calls she had taken. Everyone was excited that Tuvok's health had been restored successfully and looking forward to seeing the Vulcan again.

As they spoke quietly among themselves the door opened and a striking blonde woman entered. Commander Devyn Shelby was Starfleet's expert on the Borg and had been instrumental in rebuilding the fleet in the aftermath of the disaster at Wolf 359. She was only slightly taller than Janeway, but possessed the same commanding demeanor. Her curly hair was piled atop her head and a strong jaw below flashing green eyes gave ample testimony to her temperament. She moved gracefully into the room and dropped the stack of PADDs she carried onto the table. Leaning across the wide conference table and extending her hand she greeted those present. At least the only one who mattered to her.

"Dr. Hansen? I'm Devyn Shelby. I can't tell you how much I've looked forward to meeting you."

Seven hesitantly shook the offered hand. "How do you do, Commander? I prefer my Borg designation. Please call me Seven of Nine or just Seven."

"Of course, Seven. What do you think about Korok's warning?"

Seven glanced at Janeway before responding. "I have no data on which to base an opinion, Commander Shelby. I am waiting for the decryption of the logs like everyone else."

Shelby looked confused for a moment and then quickly regained her equilibrium. "Of course. We're all waiting to learn what tactical information is contained in those logs. Good morning, Captain Janeway. Would you introduce me to your staff officers?"

Janeway returned the greeting and proceeded to introduce the remainder of Voyager's senior staff. Before she finished the door opened again and Admirals Nechayev, Ross, Chapman, Patterson and Quinn entered with their aides. Nechayev took her place at the head of the table and opened the meeting.

"Good morning everyone. If you'll all get seated we'll get started. Shelby, pass those PADDs around to everyone. They contain a partial decryption of one of the logs Ronnik transmitted to us. Our intelligence department is working on the rest of them, but it will take a while to make sure they're decrypted and translated correctly. We're hoping that Ronnik and his crew will give our Intelligence department some assistance once they reach McKinley Station."

Tom Paris spoke up without thinking. "Why don't you have Seven working on it? She knows all the Borg encryption algorithms and can translate the data…"

"Lieutenant, you're in a meeting way over your pay grade. We will rely on proven Starfleet personnel and protocols to decrypt and translate the data nodes. It would behoove you to keep your opinions to yourself until someone with a higher rank asks for them. Am I making myself clear?" Nechayev's tone brooked no argument.

"Crystal clear, Admiral." Nobody in the room looked at anyone else, but the stunned looks on the faces of Janeway, Shelby and Patterson spoke volumes. Quinn's face remained impassive.

"Then let's continue. What we need to do today is to determine the most efficient methods of protecting the Federation and most specifically the Terran sector from a concentrated Borg incursion. Let me preface that discussion by stating that every operable ship of the line has been mobilized and is either enroute to its assigned area of operations or will be deploying from McKinley Station or Utopia Planetia within the hour. What we need to do here is to put together a plan for early detection of an incursion and for rapid communications and deployment of forces in the event of one."

"Admiral, I would suggest that most of our emphasis be on early detection. If we control that, successful deployment to meet a threat will follow naturally." Shelby was still somewhat dazed at the refusal of Nechayev to even discuss using Seven of Nine, but politically savvy enough to know that arguing would do nothing but hamstring their efforts when Nechayev dug in her heels.

"Starfleet Command agrees with you, Commander. I'm tasking you to develop sensor protocols and parameters to detect the subspace formations of transwarp and slipstream corridors."

Shelby nodded. "We're fortunate that when Voyager infected the Collective with their neurolytic pathogen four of the transwarp hubs were destroyed. That means that there are only one third of the possible exit apertures in our quadrant than there used to be. If we can determine how to configure our deep-space scanners we should be able to provide ample warning of an incursion. It also means that the Borg can't invade with as many ships as they once could."

Janeway and her staff listened as the Starfleet brass discussed their ideas with a dawning realization that Starfleet had no real understanding of how the Borg operated, let alone how to level the field of battle so that Starfleet stood a fair chance of defeating the Collective. Shelby had obviously studied the Borg, but her lack of firsthand experience with the Collective limited what she was able to do. What fueled Janeway's fury was Nechayev's persistent refusal to entertain any suggestion made by Seven of Nine or to even consider utilizing the former drone to develop a defensive strategy. Seven, for her part, remained impassive in the face of Starfleet's obdurate stubbornness, but it was clear that she regarded their attitude as inefficient in the extreme.

After an hour and a half of frustration Janeway listened as Nechayev adjourned the meeting. "We'll take this up again in three days when the Free Borg vessel arrives at McKinley Station. Until then this meeting is classified Most Secret and the highest security protocols apply to the discussion here." She stood and began to gather the PADDS in front of her. When she had them in her grasp she nodded to Shelby and strode out of the room. Admirals Chapman and Patterson left together and Quinn quickly followed.

The Voyager crew gathered around their captain, most of the speaking at the same time. No one could believe that Starfleet was deliberately ignoring Seven of Nine's capabilities to decrypt and translate the Borg tactical data. In addition, none of the suggestions made by any of them regarding sensor parameters had been adapted. The Starfleet brass had apparently decided to function as it always had. Unfortunately, old-fashioned protocols would not protect the Federation in the event the Borg attacked. Everyone in the room who had actually faced the Borg knew that, only the flag officers of Starfleet did not.

B'Elanna's temper got the better of her for a moment. "I can't believe Nechayev! It's thinking like hers that's going to get all of us on the front lines killed while she stays safe behind the blast shields here at Headquarters! And I noticed she put a rear-echelon officer in charge of the defensive sensor net. Like _she's_ going to know what to look for or how finely the arrays need to be calibrated! Dammit, Captain, unless something changes real fast this is going to be a disaster!" Tom's elbow in her ribs shut her up and as she swung around to confront him caught sight of Commander Shelby standing by the conference table gathering her PADDs.

"I'm not quite the incompetent you make me out to be, Lieutenant," she said stiffly.

Torres at least had the good sense to flush in embarrassment. "No offense intended, Commander. I let my mouth run away with me."

"None taken," Shelby said as she stalked out of the room.

"Well, that's just great, B'Elanna. Now we've got Starfleet's Borg expert pissed off at us! Way to go, honey." Tom cracked. B'Elanna just smacked him on the arm.

"Don't worry about that too much," said Janeway, "I'll head to her office and try to smooth things over. I'd have to do that even if B'Elanna didn't shoot her mouth off; it's obvious that Shelby's recommendations won't work if she sticks with conventional Starfleet protocols. We're going to have to convince her to use more creative sensor configurations if there's going to be any actual advance warning. Everybody, head to my offices at Utopia Planetia and start putting together a report of the sensor array configurations and enhancements we used around the transwarp hub and in the Northwest Passage. Do an analysis of the settings and try to determine the strengths and weaknesses of each set of configurations. Radcliffe will get you any help you might need. Seven, you're with me. Let's go try to corrupt Commander Shelby and bring her over to the dark side with us. We'll join the rest of you as soon as we can."

* * *

Commander Shelby was furious as she stormed out of the conference room and headed back to her office. The nerve of Janeway's Engineering Chief! Hadn't she tried to befriend Seven of Nine? Didn't they realize how limited Starfleet's options were? Couldn't they see what she was up against? That thought suddenly brought her up short in her headlong rush.

Of course they knew what she was up against. They knew better than anybody what she was up against. They'd faced it themselves more times than any other Starfleet crew and survived to report back. They'd allowed themselves to be assimilated to infect the hive mind; they'd challenged the Collective at every turn. Janeway had taken on the Queen one-on-one to save Seven of Nine and her officers had actually prowled the corridors of Borg cubes. They didn't have to rely on schematics to know what a Borg shield generator looked like; they'd seen them in person. They'd destroyed them with explosives to allow Voyager to beam technology and crew on and off Borg ships. They'd actually stolen a transwarp coil from a damaged sphere and used it to travel 20,000 light years! Oh yes, Voyager's officers knew what she was up against; only too well.

Arriving back at her office she dropped into her chair and checked for any messages she might have missed while in the meeting. She put her elbows on the desk and rested her head in her hands as she contemplated the impossibility of erecting a sensor net around the Alpha quadrant that would give them warning of the imminent arrival of the galaxy's worst thugs. The quiet chime of her door startled her a few minutes later.

Straightening up she called out "Come!"

The door opened to reveal Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine. The two women entered the office and hesitated slightly after greeting her. She gestured them to the chairs in front of her desk and leaned back in her own as they sat down.

"I came to apologize for Lieutenant Torres' remarks," began Janeway once they were seated. "She's a brilliant engineer and there's no doubt in my mind that we'd never have made it back from the Delta quadrant without her. But she has a rather volatile temperament and doesn't think before she speaks on occasion. She truly didn't mean any offense; she was just frustrated with the Starfleet ability to stonewall."

"I didn't take any offense, Captain Janeway. I understand how she feels. But you need to realize that there are some of us who take the Borg just as seriously as you do even if we haven't been face to face with them."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Commander. Because I'm going to be very frank with you right now. There's no way that the protocols Admiral Nechayev outlined can possibly protect the Alpha quadrant. If the Borg opt to invade, Earth will be assimilated within a week."

"I wouldn't be quite that dismal in my predictions, Captain. But you're right when you say that we need to think on a broader scale. I have some ideas for sensor calibrations that will increase their sensitivity by a factor of at least four."

Janeway and Seven exchanged glances and Seven gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. "We were thinking of some array configurations that were a bit more powerful than that," Janeway said casually.

Shelby maintained her calm demeanor. "I don't believe that you can configure our arrays to that scope of sensitivity and still maintain a contiguous net."

"There are ways to overcome those gaps in the array coverage."

"Captain Janeway, I'll keep your comments to myself, but it seems to me as though you're proposing untested and possibly dangerous sensor enhancements. I suggest you don't mention them to anyone else."

Janeway gave an internal sigh of frustration. "I understand your desire to adhere to Starfleet protocols, Commander, but you're going to discover very quickly that the standard Starfleet protocols are totally ineffective against the Borg. Remember this: the Borg survive by adaptation. And they've assimilated a lot of Starfleet officers. They already _know_ the standard protocols and have created ways around them. There is no way any standard protocol can adequately protect the quadrant."

"I'll take your comments under advisement, Captain. Thank you for your input." Shelby rose and extended her hand. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with Admiral Nechayev. I assume I can reach you at your office if I have any questions?"

Janeway stood and shook the offered hand. "Yes, I'll be at Utopia Planetia for the next week. And you'll be able to reach Seven at her office in Cambridge during that time too. After that we're gone for ten days."

"Vacation?" asked Shelby with a faint smile.

"Honeymoon," replied Janeway with the wry grin her officers knew so well.

"I see. My congratulations to you both. I assume I'll see you again at the meeting in two days. And now, if you'll excuse me?"

Janeway and Seven took their leave and strolled to the transport center, deep in a discussion that continued through the shuttle flight to Utopia Planetia. By the time their shuttle touched down at the shipyards they had arrived at a plan of action.

"Now all we have to do is sell the crew on it," commented Janeway.

* * *

"_**WE ARE THE BORG. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED. YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS WILL BE ADDED TO OUR OWN. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.**"_

Devyn Shelby's head was pounding to the sounds of Borg drones moving toward her across the Control Center. Starfleet officers fired phasers which glanced harmlessly off Borg exoplating. Assimilation tubules shot from Borg hands as the drones approached her and reached for her throat…

"Computer, end simulation." Shelby closed her eyes and rubbed her temple in a vain effort to eliminate the throbbing of her headache.

"_**Acknowledged. Simulation ended**_," replied the computer.

"Commander, do you want us to reset and try it again?" interjected the holodeck officer.

"No, Lieutenant, I don't think that will be necessary. Fifteen failures in a row ought to tell us something. It's back to the drawing boards, I'm afraid." She stood and wearily gathered her PADDs as the Control Center vanished around her to be replaced by the open struts of the holodeck grid. "Thank you all for your help this afternoon. I'll call you if we need to reschedule more time."

Nodding to the holodeck crew she exited the cavernous room and took a turbolift back to her floor of the Headquarters building. Once settled back at her desk with a fresh cup of coffee in her hand she began to mentally review the progression of the sensor array simulations they had run. Beginning with the most sensitive calibrations and adjusting to less and less sensitivity, each of the fifteen simulations had failed to provide advanced warning of a Borg transwarp incursion and Starfleet had been soundly defeated each time.

_How do I tell the brass that the vaunted sensor net we built after the Dominion War is worthless? We told the people of the Federation that it would be a 'protective web' around them and would provide so much advanced warning that Starfleet would be able to deal with any threat. And now I can't set any of them to recognize a transwarp corridor exit when it's forming. By the time the array picks up the triquantum wave signatures the exit aperture is open and Borg cubes are flooding out. Unless we get unbelievably lucky and the aperture forms within a thousand kilometers of a sensor pod we can't see them coming. Janeway was right; our protocols are useless. And after I told her off I don't think she's going to be too willing to help me._

Shelby's career had been stellar to that point, but she could see a desk job in some backwater spaceport looming in her future if she failed in her mission. She had convinced Starfleet brass that she was the Borg expert and she couldn't even manage to get their sensor arrays to recognize a transwarp aperture. Some expert!

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger to try and ward off the impending migraine she could feel forming behind her eyes. There was no denying it she had failed utterly on the first assignment she'd been given that was critical to Federation security. Granted, she'd helped rearm the fleet after Wolf 359 with some weapons that would give Starfleet a few minutes equality in a firefight with a Borg cube. But the Borg ability to adapt meant that any weapons they used were effectively blocked after half a dozen rounds were fired. Once that happened all you could do was pray you could outrun the tractor beam; because if you didn't, then you got assimilated. Period.

And yet Janeway and her crew had been able to take Voyager through a transwarp hub and survive. Not only survive, but also blow a Borg sphere to smithereens in the process. With one shot if the weapons logs were to be believed. How did they do it? There was a great deal of data regarding Voyager's return to Earth that was immediately classified Top Secret and sealed. And Shelby knew that the Department of Temporal Investigations had been deeply involved in the de-briefings of the senior staff. Some of the logs had been destroyed by order of the Federation Council to keep the data in them from being used in violation of the Temporal Prime Directive. Those secrets were lost to Starfleet forever and Shelby couldn't shake the feeling that the Federation was going to pay a heavy price because of it.

Sighing heavily she turned to her terminal and began to record her logs, hoping to finish before she had to call for a hypospray for her migraine.

"But Admiral, don't you see that without her input we're operating in a vacuum? That she could provide critical data to us?"

"Captain Picard, your dedication to security is commendable, but the decision has already been made. Our response to Korok's warning will be formulated and executed by Starfleet personnel. No civilian contractors will be involved for security reasons."

Janeway sat stoically through the exchange, her expression stony in the face of Starfleet's inflexible stance. It was obvious from the opening remarks of the meetings with Ronnik that Starfleet was _not_ including Seven of Nine in their plans against the Collective. It made no sense to Janeway in light of Admiral Quinn's graciousness to her. But the expression on his face during the meetings indicated that either the Federation President or the Council had overruled him. Not even the pleas of Picard were given credence.

Once the Borg vessel had docked at McKinley Station events had moved at nearly warp speed. Ronnik assigned two of his crew to help decrypt the data nodes they had captured and once the information contained in them had been translated the threat to the Federation, and more specifically Earth, had been obvious. The Borg had targeted humanity.

The only bright spot in the data streams indicated that the Collective would need nearly a year and a half to ready itself for an invasion of the magnitude necessary to assimilate Earth. They had time to prepare a counterstrike to eliminate the threat. The only problem was the counterstrike, as envisioned by Starfleet, would fail and the chosen commanders of the counterstrike knew it.

Starfleet proposed sending a three-pronged armada deep into the Delta quadrant and attacking the Collective at its heart. Two prongs of the attack would center on the remaining transwarp hubs and the third would attack the Collective's Unicomplex, and by extension, its Queen. Janeway had been placed in overall command of the task force; her fleet would attack the Unicomplex while Picard and Will Riker would each lead a strike force against a transwarp hub. All three of the captains had fought the Borg and realized that the proposed strategy could not succeed without considerable technological advancement and Starfleet was not proposing any new technology for their fleets. Short of a miracle the proposed offensive would be little more than a suicide mission. But Janeway was resolved not to go down without a fight.

She and Seven had anticipated Starfleet's position and formulated a plan which would give the proposed armada as much protection and firepower as possible – without Starfleet's knowledge or authorization if need be. All she had to do now was convince her fellow commanders to deliberately disobey their orders with her and they just might stand a fighting chance. Her focus returned to the meeting at hand when Commander Shelby asked her a question.

"Captain Janeway, your logs indicate that you were able to monitor Borg transwarp corridors fairly often during your time in the Delta quadrant. Did you have your sensor arrays configured specially to do so?"

"No, Commander, we monitored for subspace disturbances and fluctuations and keyed the sensor arrays to immediately check for triquantum waves if a subspace variance was detected. By setting our sensors to automatically trip for additional scans it kept our Operations officers able to monitor more ranges of readings and allow the arrays to automatically monitor some anomalies and trip alarms for us. I'm sure that you can configure our quadrant arrays to do the same." The look on Janeway's face told Shelby that she knew full well the planetary arrays couldn't be fine-tuned that much.

"Thank you, Captain. We'll proceed with those protocols." Shelby's cool response belied her inner turmoil. It was obvious that Janeway did not plan on giving her any help. She would just have to get it from other sources.

When the meeting adjourned an hour later Janeway, Picard and Riker had been given their preliminary orders. Janeway had been given command of the _**USS Boudicca**_, a dreadnaught currently under construction at Utopia Planetia. She had been ordered to assemble her senior staff immediately and begin staffing the rest of the assignments on the ship when she returned from her honeymoon. Picard and Riker were to complete their crew complements and fill any gaps in their senior staffs as well. Starfleet's Research and Development section was beginning work on weapons, shields and armor for the fleet and the TPG had been tasked to attempt to come up with a faster-than-warp drive as quickly as possible.

Starfleet Operations was assigning vessels to the armada and scheduling them into Utopia Planetia for refits and upgrades. Janeway merely had to keep on top of the refit schedules, staff her battleship, develop the tactical plans for the fleet with Picard and Riker, train the ships and crews under her command and marry Seven of Nine in eight days. Mercifully, the only task among those that _had_ to be completed in the next week and a half was the wedding and she was fully prepared to let everything else go to facilitate meeting that particular deadline.

As the meeting's participants filed out of the conference room Janeway caught up with Jean-Luc Picard and Will Riker. The three designated fleet commanders stepped out of the flow to have a quiet word.

"When are you scheduled to leave McKinley Station?" Janeway asked of her fellow captains.

"We've got another forty-eight hours here before we deploy back onto active duty status," replied Riker.

"Then, given what we all heard in today's meeting, may I suggest a dinner party at my home tomorrow night? Bring Deanna, Will. And Jean-Luc, why don't you bring Doctor Crusher along? I'm inviting Admiral Pulaski and our EMH so she'll have someone to talk to. Say 1830 hours?"

Both officers nodded their agreement. "Kathryn, that sounds like a wonderful idea. Can we bring anything?" asked Picard.

"No, Jean-Luc, just yourselves. Don't worry, I've got a case or two of Chateau Picard stowed away for special occasions. I'll be sure to decant a few bottles." All three of them laughed at the pointed jibe and began to make their way out of the building. "I'll send you the address and access codes later this afternoon. I wanted to talk about…"

Voices faded as they descended the building steps. Unbeknownst to them, Commander Shelby was standing in the shadows across the corridor, listening to every word the three fleet captains had exchanged.

"1830 hours tomorrow night at Janeway's home. Well, at least now I know what my timeline is and where I'll need to get access." The short blonde turned on her heel and headed back to her office at a fast clip.


	3. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

An entire continent away Seven of Nine stood at the terminal in her lab transfixed by the simulation results on her screen. Her initial hypothesis had been destroyed by the simulation results, but a different idea of how to accomplish her goal had appeared out of the wreckage. She stared at the readouts, her mind racing. Fingers danced over terminal contacts and her brow furrowed slightly in frustration. Giving into it, she drew her left hand back, extended her assimilation tubules and directly interfaced with the computer serving her lab.

The research assistants assigned to her, while not exactly comfortable with their resident genius utilizing her remaining Borg implants to interface with their computers, were at least past the gasping and paralyzed-by-fear stage. They had been working in the new lab for several weeks and so far had not been disappointed by their leader. Seven of Nine was driven and her brilliance had not been exaggerated. While she was not the warmest of superiors she did seem to make an effort to be civil and that was more than some of the lead researchers at the Institute could claim. But beyond that she remained an enigma to her staff.

Her explanations of what they were attempting were complete and as detailed as required. But no one in the lab had missed the haunted look that crept into her eyes as she watched simulation after simulation fail. They couldn't know that the concepts they were now testing had taken root and been growing in her brain since the first year she had been on Voyager. The slipstream drive on Arturis' ship had been the spark. When they had safely returned to Voyager, she had declared her intention of developing a version of slipstream drive that Voyager could safely utilize. The designs and theories had sprung into her brain and she had developed them as best she could. But on Voyager there was always the concern that simulations would draw critical power from a primary system or that using more than allotted CPU access would jeopardize another project critical to the safety of ship and crew. That research would have drawn needed resources away from the all-consuming focus of returning home.

And now, now that she had the laboratory and the time and the access and the power and the freedom to test and expand her theories and ideas, now there was a different danger. Now the Borg threatened. And Kathryn would lead the fight against them. If Seven didn't develop a working slipstream drive soon Kathryn would be forced to go against the Borg at a critical disadvantage and would most likely be killed. Kathryn had given her life back to her. Kathryn had showed her how to feel, to function, to be free. Kathryn had shown her how to love and how incredible it was to _be_ loved. Now the fear of losing Kathryn drove her. The mantra 'hurry, hurry, hurry' ran constantly through her mind. She could not, _would_ not lose Kathryn because she failed in her quest. She would design the slipstream drive Kathryn required. She would protect her wife, _her collective_, the best way she knew how. As Seven withdrew her tubules from the access port the frown on her features eased.

"Reset the simulation and prepare to run it once more. This time set the tolerance of the lattice array to no more than .6800 and lock out any phase variances."

"But, Dr. Hansen, won't that force a cascade failure in the processor?" asked one of her senior assistants.

"It would under normal circumstances, yes. But with the lattice array set to a maximum tolerance of .67999… I believe we can avoid the cascade failure. Are we reset?"

"Yes, ma'am, it's ready to run again."

"Begin the simulation." All eyes in the lab fixed on the read outs flashing across their screen. This time, as the compression ratios climbed, the lattice array of the superprocessors absorbed the power fluctuations and continued functioning as they had been designed to.

"Run time: five minutes. Power utilization nominal. Processing speed, 800 EHz… 875 EHz… 930 EHz… 980 EHz… Dr. Hansen, we're approaching Zetta hertz speeds!"

"Continue the simulation," Seven said firmly.

"Run time: seven minutes. Power utilization nominal. Processing speed…400 ZHz and climbing!" The young researcher couldn't keep the rising excitement out of her voice.

Seven's eyes never moved from the numbers flashing across her terminal.

"Verify that the power utilization curve is within acceptable parameters. Give me constant temperature readouts and continue the simulation." Her assistants bent over their boards, fingers flying.

"Verifying; power utilization curve is .763 microvolts _below_ projections! We're using less power than we expected!"

"Temperature holding steady at 22°C. That's below standard room temperature!"

"Run time: nine minutes. Power utilization nominal. Processing speed…this can't be right!" The young woman's face froze as she stared at the readouts of her board.

"Your perceptions are irrelevant! Give me the data readouts from your board."

"Processing speed….I'm reading 256 Yotta Hertz! That's impossible! Nothing has even worked at Zetta hertz speeds let alone Yotta hertz!"

Turning to another assistant Seven snapped, "Verify those speeds using secondary protocols as well as primary protocols."

Tight silence reigned in the lab until the second assistant spoke up in a whisper. "The secondary protocols match the primary simulation results: our processor is functionally working at over 250 YHz. We've just increased the processing speed of our computers by a factor of three…" All eyes in the lab turned to Seven as she stared at her board trying to find a flaw, any flaw. But the longer she looked the more convinced she became: there were none. They had done it. By incorporating a lattice array into power interfaces she had managed to remove the final barrier to the processing speeds she needed. The lattices kept the temperatures down and allowed the circuitry processing power to explode exponentially. Standard cooling protocols would insure that the super-processor would be fast enough.

Finally she looked up from her boards, a slow smile spreading over her face. "I believe the breakthrough we have been looking for has been achieved. Your efforts have been most acceptable. Tomorrow we will run this entire simulation twice more. With a breakthrough of this magnitude results must be beyond question."

Glancing at the chronometer on the wall she shook her head slightly. "Much as I would like to continue tonight, shut the simulation down and we will pick up again in the morning. You have all earned an early night. Go out and enjoy yourselves." Talking excitedly among themselves, her assistants began stepping down the simulation to close it as Seven walked into her office adjoining the lab. She sat at her desk, made some rapid log entries in her laboratory journal and stopped to consider what they had done.

With the increase in processing speed they had just demonstrated and with an enhanced interface matrix she had some ideas about there was every indication that she and her assistants could build a safe and functional slipstream drive. The only factor that had ever limited slipstream travel was the processing speeds of conventional computers. They were just too slow to compute phase variances in the quantum field and transmit corrections to the deflector arrays to maintain the slipstream corridors. Now that they had apparently tripled conventional processing speed and were about to increase the interface matrix tolerances there would be nothing physical stopping their construction of a slipstream drive.

Theoretically, a quantum slipstream drive would be capable of speeds far in excess of the Borg transwarp drives, a tactical advantage that would be hugely valuable to Starfleet. Kathryn would have the advantage necessary to keep her as safe as possible. Once they had designed the slipstream drive Seven had some ideas about shields, armor and weapons that she would need to develop. Kathryn deserved no less.

But there was so little time.

_Hurry, hurry, hurry…_

* * *

The walk to the transport center in Cambridge was cold, but Seven never noticed as her mind continued to pore over and analyze their simulation results. Controlling the harmonics in the lattice arrays had done the trick; the processor was more than capable of handling the computations necessary to keep a quantum slipstream corridor stable. The matrix enhancements for the interface between the processor and the deflector array were important to maintain a stable slipstream. Perhaps she could ask B'Elanna for help with them. Voyager's Chief Engineer was brilliant and would add critical knowledge to the design. Seven decided to contact her the next day and ask for her help.

She began to block out the simulations and tests that would have to be run before they could begin building a prototype drive. She made a mental note to inform Dr. Pedersen of their find so that the Institute would be on top of the developments. A quantum slipstream drive would have military applications which would require the Institute work in conjunction with Starfleet.

Looking up she realized she was at the transport center. Stepping onto the pad she stated firmly, "San Francisco, Russian Hill" and felt the tingle as the transporter did its job. When she rematerialized on their neighborhood pad she stepped off and began the uphill trek toward home. Seven was running a bit late; perhaps Kathryn would be waiting for her. The thought warmed her as she walked and caused a smile that stayed on her face as she keyed the entry code to the Fremont Lane gate.

When she entered their house Seven heard soft jazz playing on the comm system and followed the sound of quiet, slightly-off-key humming to her love. Janeway was holding a glass of neat whiskey and staring out at the glittering vista of city lights trailing down to San Francisco Bay. Seven came up behind her and slipped her arms around the smaller woman drawing her in close.

"Hello, my love," murmured Janeway with a soft smile, "How was your day?"

Both women relaxed into the embrace as Seven replied. "It was acceptable, Kathryn. We made progress in our current project. I hope to have it completed within a week. How was your day?"

Janeway sighed, "It's going along like we thought it would. I haven't heard one plan or protocol from Starfleet that makes me think we'll survive a Borg attack. In fact, it seemed apparent this morning that even Admiral Quinn has been overruled by the Federation President or the Council. He didn't look at all pleased with the discussion. I'm afraid we're going to have to go ahead with our plans."

"Did you initiate them?"

"Somewhat. I didn't contact our staff yet, but I asked Jean-Luc and Will to dinner here tomorrow night. They're bringing Bev Crusher and Deanna and I thought I'd invite Admiral Pulaski and the EMH to join us. That way we can talk to all the major players at the same time. If I'm going to commit mutiny I want the best company possible." Seven's smile widened at the wry tone of Janeway's voice.

"I did some research, Kathryn, and technically what we are doing is called 'barratry'. You are not staging an illegal uprising to take control of a Federation vessel or facility; rather you are committing 'an act of gross misconduct which may not be in the best interests of the ship-owner'."

"Wonderful. I'm committing barratry, not mutiny. I'm sure that will be a source of great comfort to me in whatever penal colony we wind up." The irony in Janeway's tone made Seven's smile grow even wider.

"I do not wish to cook tonight, Kathryn. Shall we go out to dinner?"

"Whatever you want, darling. We'll need to talk about tomorrow night and make some plans whatever we do."

"Very well. Would you like Chinese food?"

"Xinh Xao's? You know I can't resist their _Chow Mei Fun_."

"Then Xinh Xao's it is."

Settling in at their table several minutes later Seven remarked on their good fortune to live where they did. The neighborhood was filled with cafes, bistros, gourmet shops, coffeehouses and eateries of all descriptions. It was never a walk of more than ten or fifteen minutes to whatever cuisine you fancied. Seven was enchanted with her new home and its locale, not to mention her new roommate. They ordered and began a desultory conversation on no particular topics.

"Do you wish me to cook for dinner tomorrow, Kathryn? Given the state of my research it might be difficult for me to break free early enough to do so."

"Then let's just have it catered, love. I'll call and order something in the morning. The caterers can either deliver the food or send the programming parms to our replicator. Either way, no one will need to cook. That's just simpler. But remind me to open a few bottles of the Chateau Picard early enough to breathe."

"I will, Kathryn."

"Is there any particular cuisine you'd like to serve? I don't know everyone's preferences but most people enjoy Italian food. How about some seafood and fettuccini in a white sauce?"

"I would prefer scallops in a white clam sauce. And it would be easier on everyone if the pasta was penne rather than fettuccini. It is easier to eat and not as inclined to drop onto your clothing. Perhaps a crisp green salad to start and Italian ices for dessert? With cappuccino?" They were briefly interrupted as their dinners were served.

"Your palette is amazing, love. I can't believe it was less than six months ago that you were still saying that taste was irrelevant and that you did not require solid nutrition. That sounds like a perfect dinner. I'll take care of ordering it first thing in the morning. Now, tell me about your day. You said that your research was acceptable. For most people, that means that they would be jumping up and down for joy. What happened?"

"While examining the results of a failed simulation, I saw a pattern in the cascade failure of the processor. By strengthening the lattice array and reducing the harmonic amplitude by thirty-two percent we held the temperature fluctuations to near zero, reduced power requirements by twenty-five percent and increased the processing speed by a factor of three. Our processor was working at slightly over 250 YHz when we stepped the simulation down."

Janeway's fork clattered unheeded to her plate as her jaw dropped. "_**250 YHz? **_Seven, that's impossible! There have never been recorded processing speeds in the YHz range; in fact, the Klingons Lursa and B'Etor Duras hypothesized that computers working in excess of ZHz speeds would significantly increase the possibility of subspace rifts. Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes Kathryn, we ran the simulation for lengthy amount of time. We will re-run it again tomorrow, but the results I saw today indicate the processor works. I am forming a team to reinforce the interface matrices between the processor and deflector arrays, but I am confident that with B'Elanna's help that enhancement can be designed and implemented very quickly. Once the two are joined, we are only construction time away from a working prototype of a quantum slipstream drive."

Janeway stared at her lover in awe. "My God, you've done it. In less than a month you've overcome the obstacles Starfleet thought would never be overcome. A quantum slipstream drive! How fast do you think it could go?"

"Hypothetically, Kathryn, twice the speed of a transwarp ship. But there are still too many unknowns to be making predictions like that. I will notify Dr. Pedersen in the morning of our results so that she can set up the communication channels with Starfleet. I am sure that the TPG will wish to monitor our simulations and verify our results as well. Please do not tell anyone of my results until the Institute releases the information officially."

"Of course, darling. Seven, you've done it! Let's order champagne and celebrate!" As Janeway turned in her chair to signal a waiter, Seven laid a gentle hand on her arm to stop her.

"I would rather do something else, Kathryn."

"What, darling?"

"I would prefer that we stop at the wine shop on the corner and purchase a bottle of champagne on our way home. And that we drink it in bed." Seven's optical array arched in question as she explained her plan.

Janeway didn't bother to answer her, just signaled frantically for the check.

* * *

The next morning Seven stopped in at Dr. Pedersen's office before opening her lab. The director's assistant was not in yet, but the director was and welcomed Seven into her office with a wide smile. Indicating a conversation area at one side of the spacious office, both women sat down.

"You're in bright and early this morning. Can I get you some coffee or tea, Dr. Hansen?"

Remembering the Doctor's social lessons, Seven replied, "No, thank you. There were some unusual results in my lab yesterday that I felt you should be made aware of."

She handed the director a PADD with the results of the final simulation and settled back in her chair as the other woman began to read. She watched with veiled amusement as Dr. Pedersen's eyes slowly widened and began to scan back and forth faster and faster as she tried to absorb the contents of the PADD.

"But… but…" she sputtered as her eyes flew up to lock with Seven's. "Is this even possible? Have you duplicated your simulation? Are you sure this isn't a one-time anomaly?"

"My assistants are setting the simulation up again this morning. We will run it for the entire morning and then re-stage it again this afternoon. But the results are clear: we have broken the YHz barrier. I will instruct another team of researchers to begin developing enhancements to the interface matrices between CPUs and deflector arrays. I would like to bring in a Starfleet engineer to help with that enhancement. Once they are in place, and if our processing speeds hold, we are ready to begin design of a prototype slipstream drive."

"A month…less than a month. You've been here less than a month and you've cracked the barriers to a slipstream drive…" Pedersen whispered in amazement. Recovering with a small shake of her head she laughed out loud. "Dr. Hansen, I suspect that the highlight of my curriculum vitae as director of the MIT-Daystrom Institute will be the fact that I lured you here to join us. With results like these I can be perfectly content with that. Please, would you object to me joining you this morning? I haven't been involved in research this exciting in a long time and it would be…fun…to be there with you and your team."

Seven considered her internal chronometer. "We should be ready to start our simulation by 0715 hours. Please join us if you can." She rose and extended her hand to the director. "And thank you for 'luring me' to this Institute. If these results hold and we do build a slipstream drive it will be because this facility provided the research environment to do so."

"I'll be in your lab by 0710 hours. Count on it!" They shook hands and Seven left for her laboratory area. Pedersen collapsed into her desk chair and contemplated what she had just been told. _MIT-Daystrom has just opened the door to a working slipstream drive, not to mention untold weapons, navigational and shielding technologies. And those are just the military applications. I'll need to contact Leah Brahms as soon as we get the interface matrices locked down. Seven of Nine just beat the pants off the TPG and they had a year's head start! _ Her smile widened as she anticipated watching the morning's simulation run.

Her anticipation was rewarded by 1115 hours. Seven's team had run a full scale simulation and their processor had steadily maintained the 256 YHz speed. Even when they instituted power fluctuations the lattice arrays moderated the fluctuations and kept the processor working without a hitch. They stepped the simulation down and brought it to a halt with no apparent discrepancies in the processing speeds. The team began a full set of diagnostics to ascertain if the processor had sustained any damage from the long simulation. Dr. Pedersen asked Seven to join her in the office. Once away from the excited research team she faced her newest scientist with a smile.

"Well, you've convinced me. It works. I have no doubt that your simulation this afternoon will produce the same results. I'll start putting together an independent beta-test team for the processor. We can be ready to go when you return from your honeymoon. But I can't see any reason why the processor won't pass with flying colors. You realize that I'll have to bring Starfleet and TPG on board once you finalize your results, don't you?"

Seven nodded. "I knew they would have to be brought in fairly soon. It would be extremely difficult to construct a working prototype without a ship and Starfleet's cooperation in that would greatly facilitate matters. But please do not do so until we have our interfaces fully tested and implemented as well. That way we can present them with not only the enhanced processor but the necessary deflector linkage as a single design."

Pedersen nodded in agreement. "That was my plan as well. Congratulations, Dr. Hansen. I know I won't be the last to offer them to you, but please let me be the first." After a few minutes' additional discussion on the best way to handle events with Starfleet Dr. Pedersen returned to her office and Seven to the lab. Her team was poring over the results of the most recent simulation and formulating ways to try and 'break' the new processor. The more variables they could program in their simulations the less chance the beta test team would succeed in finding a flaw in their processor. So deep was their focus on the next simulation that none of them thought about lunch.

By 1330 hours they were ready to run the simulation again. Just as Seven gave the order to power up the matrices the comm unit in her office chimed. She instructed her assistants to cycle up the simulation as she moved to answer the comm. The security officer in the main lobby of her building was hailing her.

"Dr. Hansen? There's a Commander Shelby from Starfleet Headquarters here to see you."

Seven frowned at this news. She knew who Commander Shelby was, of course, but could not help but wonder what she was doing on the wrong side of the country.

* * *

"I appreciate you seeing me without advance notice, Dr. Hansen."

"I believe we agreed that you would call me Seven, Commander. How may I be of assistance?"

Devyn Shelby took a deep breath. The very survival of the Federation could hinge on how she phrased her request. But Seven of Nine, a former Borg drone would not tolerate the typical political double-talk necessary in Starfleet Headquarters. Only the unvarnished truth would suffice here.

"Seven, I cannot carry out my orders. It is not possible to configure the planetary sensor arrays to provide adequate warning of Borg exit apertures. No matter how minutely we configure the arrays, unless the exit aperture forms within one thousand kilometers of a sensor pod, we will not have advance warning. You and Captain Janeway implied that you knew how it could be done in an…unconventional…manner. I need the specifications you were thinking of when you and the captain visited me in my office. I need your help, Seven. The Federation cannot stand against the Borg without it. I realize that now, even if Starfleet doesn't."

Seven considered the woman seated next to her for a long moment. That she was being forthright was a point in her favor; however, Seven was not knowledgeable enough about Starfleet politics to comfortably deal with her. She wished that Kathryn were with her at this moment.

"What would you have me do, Commander? I am considered a security risk by many of the ranking officers of Starfleet. I cannot walk into Headquarters and demand that they listen to me."

"No, you can't. But you can convince Captain Janeway that I'm not her enemy. We can work together to protect the quadrant. You can give us the benefit of your knowledge. You can do those things, can't you? And I will do my level best to show Starfleet how big a mistake they are making in cutting you out of the process of defending Earth."

What Commander Shelby proposed was precisely what she and Kathryn had tried to suggest to Shelby earlier. That the officer was now willing to consider it gave ample testimony to the degree of desperation she felt. Seven made her decision.

"Do you know the transport center at Lombard and Van Ness?"

"Yes, I do."

"Meet me there this evening at 1740 hours. We'll be attending a dinner party."

"Uniforms required?"

"No, actually, civilian attire."

Shelby stood to take her leave. "I'll be there."

* * *

When Seven stepped off the transport pad that night Shelby was waiting. The Starfleet officer was dressed in a beautifully tailored black suit with a dove gray silk t-shirt. Seven greeted her warmly and the women began the short walk to the Janeway-Hansen residence. Shelby was impressed with the location of their home and commented on it to Seven.

When she opened the front door and called out to Kathryn, Seven hoped that her partner had calmed down from her initial response on their call that afternoon. Janeway was not at all pleased that Shelby had tried to use Seven to get around her, but Seven had been adamant that the Commander wanted only to work with Janeway and not against her. She persuaded her stubborn Starfleet captain to give Shelby a chance. As the two women walked through the foyer and into the great room Kathryn came out from the kitchen to greet them. After a slightly-longer-than-brief kiss for her fiancée Seven excused herself to change for dinner and Janeway fixed Shelby and herself a drink. Cocktails in hand, they moved toward the sofa in front of the fireplace just as the caterers finished setting up. After a quick conference with Janeway they adjourned to their hovervan where they could wait in comfort and she returned to the sofa and her guest. Settling in with her drink she contemplated the Starfleet expert.

"Well, I was certainly surprised when Seven called me to tell me she'd invited you tonight. Any particular reason you accosted her instead of me?"

Shelby carefully considered her answer. "Because I'd already alienated you by sticking with Starfleet standards. I knew that Seven would understand that nothing is more important to me than protecting Earth and the Terran Sector. Even if I was foolish enough to ignore what I knew and opted to go along like I always do. But this is too important. This isn't just political; this is survival for the human race. I can't just 'go along' on this one. I have to succeed even if it means I go against Starfleet. The alternative is too horrific to contemplate. So I went to Seven to try and convince her to trust me. Once I got here I planned to apologize to you and beg for your help." She regarded Janeway with a steady gaze.

"I see. Well, it worked. You're here. Now tell me what's really going on."

"Would it be possible to wait for Seven to join us? I know I'm going to need her help too and I'd just as soon brief you both at the same time."

"In that case we'll wait until dinner. This dinner party has a purpose; a nefarious one by Starfleet standards. We'll see where everybody stands and then come clean together."

"Who else is coming tonight?"

"Picard, Crusher, Riker, Troi, Pulaski and our EMH."

Shelby nodded in understanding. "The entire command team. That makes sense. If you're going to accomplish anything you'll need all of them working together."

Janeway merely nodded in answer, her eyes swinging to the hallway as Seven emerged from the bedroom dressed in raw silk slacks of light gray and a sapphire silk shirt. Her heart skipped a beat as it always did when she saw her love in a flattering outfit. As she swung her gaze back to Shelby she caught the other woman staring openly at her fiancée.

Chuckling softly she called her on it, "Eyes front, Commander." Shelby flushed darkly and stammered an apology.

"I understand completely. How can I expect people to keep their eyes off her when I can't; they only see her occasionally and I live with her. But she is something, isn't she?"

Shelby looked her directly in the eye and stated emphatically, "You are an extremely lucky woman, Captain. Not only to have made it back from the Delta quadrant but to return with such an amazing partner. I envy you a great deal."

"Frankly, Commander, I'm constantly surprised that half of Starfleet hasn't shot me to have a chance with her."

Seven came out from behind the kitchen counter with a glass of her favorite sparkling cider in hand and sat next to Janeway on the sofa.

"Have you two agreed to a truce or is a duel scheduled for dawn tomorrow?" she asked with a quirk to the corner of her mouth and a cock of her optical array. Their answering laughter relieved her unease with the situation.

"Commander Shelby has decided to join us in our sedition; excuse me, our _barratry_. She will be part of the solution we decide on tonight." Their heads turned at the sound of the door chime. Janeway rose to answer it and invited Jean-Luc, Bev, Will and Deanna inside. As she was turning to close the door behind them Admiral Pulaski and the EMH hailed her from the cul-de-sac on their way to the door.

When everyone was settled with a drink in the great room talk turned to Voyager's return from the Delta quadrant. Janeway and Seven gave their guests the official Starfleet version of their final confrontation with the Borg. The full details couldn't come out until they had agreement from all the officers on a course of action. Then they could explain why they were determined to go against their orders, not until.

Half an hour later Janeway rose and indicated the way to the dining room. When they had seated themselves, been served and the caterers returned to the kitchen conversation around the table became more focused on the problems at hand. It was obvious that Picard and Riker knew there was trouble brewing and had explained as much to their companions: neither Deanna nor Beverly said much at all, allowing the command officers freedom to discuss their orders. Janeway, Picard, Riker and Shelby spoke frankly of their assignments and their feelings of futility with Starfleet's inability to ask for the help it so obviously needed. Pulaski stayed silent but listened attentively. Seven remained silent until finally, Janeway broached the subject at the center of their plans. When she explained to Pulaski, Picard, Riker and Shelby of her intention to violate her orders and utilize every bit of help Seven could supply the officers looked at each other and three of them nodded their agreement.

"Count me in," said Shelby immediately.

Picard seconded that opinion. "I agree with you, Kathryn. I believe it's the only way we can possibly succeed in our mission."

Will chuckled and said simply, "I learned a long time ago that Jean-Luc was usually right in his choice of action. I went along with him then and I'll go along now."

All eyes turned to Admiral Pulaski. The distinguished looking woman sat deep in thought for several long moments. Finally she looked up and replied, "It's no secret that I've disagreed with Starfleet on more than one occasion in my career. To this moment, I've never deliberately violated my orders. But if what I'm hearing is even half true, the battle plan Starfleet has designed will do nothing but cause the cream of Starfleet to die needlessly. We did that in the Dominion War and it didn't work out too well for us. And it won't do a damned thing to save humanity from assimilation. So I guess this is that moment when I deliberately defy my orders. I'm a physician: I won't watch sentient beings die or be assimilated if I can help it. I'm in. So what's the plan?"

Seven joined in the conversation at this point, explaining in detail how they had escaped the Borg armada in the transwarp hub and made it back to the Alpha quadrant. When she began discussing the technology Admiral Janeway had brought with her Picard frowned.

"Kathryn, I don't know what your experiences with the Department of Temporal Affairs have been, but mine have never been good. If Temporal Affairs or Temporal Investigations seized that technology there's no way we'll ever get it back even with Starfleet's approval. They value the Temporal Prime Directive above everything else – even humanity."

Janeway's wicked grin caused several eyebrows around the table to rise. "That's the beauty of our plan, Jean-Luc. We don't _need_ Temporal Affairs; we've got Seven of Nine. She was the officer responsible for the installation of the ablative hull armor and the configuration of the transphasic torpedoes."

Her meaning dawned on Pulaski and Crusher at the same moment. "Of course!" gasped Beverly turning to Jean-Luc, "Her cortical node! She'd got an eidetic memory and a functional cortical node Jean-Luc! She's already got the schematics we'd need!"

Turning back to Seven she asked gently, "And you can download the schematics without damaging yourself?"

"I can," Seven replied with a smile.

At this point the EMH chimed in. "It will be an extensive download, but I'll monitor her while she does it and we'll get her into her alcove immediately afterward. That will recharge her cortical node and Borg systems and allow her to recover from the effort. Believe me, she's downloaded much larger data files without harm."

"So what all are we talking about here?" asked Riker.

"The complete schematics for the ablative hull armor and transphasic torpedoes, the formula for the neurolytic pathogen that the Doctor came up with to break the Queen's control of the hive mind and a little something Seven came up with all on her own: anti-Borg nanoprobes."

"Anti-Borg nanoprobes? What are those?" demanded Pulaski.

"It is a modified nanoprobe that assimilates only _other nanoprobes_ and renders them inoperative. Essentially, when these nanoprobes strike any Borg technology they immediately begin to destroy it," supplied Seven. "If incorporated into the particle beam of a phaser, for example, a shot at a drone will immediately begin breaking down Borg exoplating and cybernetic limbs. If encapsulated in a photon torpedo and fired at a Borg vessel the exterior armoring of the cube will begin to disintegrate immediately. I must credit the Doctor with the idea; he was the one that first modified nanoprobes to fight Species 8472. I merely took his idea a step further."

"And the Borg would never be able to adapt to them because the nanoprobes would just go after the adapted shielding instead," said Riker in awe. "My God, Seven, that's the perfect anti-Borg weapon!"

"Quite right, Will, but ultimately useless to us unless we can get within shooting distance of the Borg. We cannot access their transwarp hubs from this quadrant; there are only exit apertures here. Without propulsion equal to Borg transwarp engines our weapons can be used only defensively. Once they're in the quadrant it will be too late," added Picard.

Seven said evenly, "Captain Picard, my lab has had a major success within the past forty-eight hours. I am confident that within weeks the Institute will be contacting the TPG with preliminary schematics for a quantum slipstream drive."

Deanna Troi spoke up for the first time. "Seven, you've only been at the Institute for a couple of weeks. Are you saying that you've made the breakthrough Starfleet has been seeking for years in just two weeks?"

"No, Counselor. I have been working on the problems of a quantum slipstream drive for over three years. Now I have the facilities to test and refine the theories I have formulated. Our success has been a long time in coming."

"Seven, are you sure that the slipstream drive will be functional in time for us to utilize it?" queried Picard gently.

"Yes, Captain. We have solved the processing speed problem. A working slipstream drive requires only enhanced interfaces between the processor and the deflector array to make it feasible. I have started one of my teams on those enhancements while the other is retesting the processor speed results. So far we have had no failures and our speeds have held steady in every simulation. I believe we can bring the TPG into the development of a prototype for space trials within a month."

The realization that Starfleet might finally possess reliable faster-than-warp propulsion caused excited discussion around the table. Ideas were flung into the mix, debated and either accepted or discarded as unworkable. Finally, after nearly an hour the talk wound down. Seven summoned the caterers to clear the table and serve dessert and coffee.

"So are we all clear on which projects we're working on?" asked Janeway when they were alone again with their desserts. Affirmative nods from everyone around the table answered her question.

"Needless to say we need to keep this quiet, but that doesn't mean you can't bring trusted members of your senior staff on board. Just make sure they know that it's our careers if Starfleet gets wind of what we're doing before we can reveal it 'legally'. The more people that know the greater the chances of being found out. In the meantime our primary goal is to get Seven named to head the fleet refit team. Bev and Deanna, if either of you think of some way to convince Starfleet for heaven's sake let us know ASAP. We'll need all the help we can get."

"Does anybody know what the status of all this is? Has the Federation decided to formally aid the Free Borg? Is there a treaty in the works? I think knowing those answers would greatly help in figuring out what it is we need to accomplish," commented Deanna.

Admiral Pulaski spoke up. "I don't know about a formal treaty; I assume we'll all hear about that when it comes out. But the EMH and I have been busy working on the drones from Ronnik's ship and I know that the official position of Starfleet Medical is to give them all the aid and support we can. We've been removing rejected implants in eight separate surgical suites around the clock since they docked at McKinley and plans are to continue until we run out of drones to work on."

"The logs from Seven's surgeries and Dr. Crusher's notes from removing implants after Captain Picard's assimilation have provided a good knowledge base for our physicians to work from. There are a lot of Starfleet medical officers gaining a lot of experience in Borg implants and exoplating in a big hurry. But that can only work to our advantage if they _do_ attack," commented the EMH.

Pulaski shifted in her chair and looked carefully around the group. "What I'm about to tell you is classified. The Holo-Imaging Labs on Jupiter have been ordered to provide holo-emitters for Ronnik's ship and for Korok's ship and to download the complete program files for our Mark lV EMH. Ronnik's ship will be equipped with the Mark lV and it will carry the schematics for holo-emitters and the program installation parameters back to Korok. They have been given permission to equip every ship in Korok's fleet with a Mark lV."

"And the Mark lV is being programmed with all of my subroutines that deal with the Borg. So it will be fully qualified to care for the drones in Korok's fleet," added the EMH. This was news to the rest of the people at the table.

"I suppose I shouldn't mention this since it's only a rumor, but best to get everything out in the open," said Shelby. "You folks on Voyager probably didn't hear this, but rumor has it that Reg Barclay expanded on the work he did with micro-wormholes that enabled you all to communicate from the Delta quadrant. Scuttlebutt is that he's developed a portable system that can be deployed from a starship to create a wormhole, send a data stream to a pre-programmed location and maintain the wormhole for twenty-four hours if necessary to receive an answering data stream. And that the system is going back to the Delta quadrant for Korok to use."

Seven was fascinated at the idea. "A system that would create its own micro-wormhole…of course, the destination location at Starfleet would remain constant. So the wormhole would always appear at the same place, only its origin would change…. Kathryn, this would enable your fleets to be in constant contact with Starfleet from anywhere in the galaxy. And for Korok to communicate immediately with Starfleet as he discovers new intelligence on the Borg."

"So let's take stock of what we've got so far," said Janeway ticking items off on her fingers. "Starfleet Medical is removing all the Borg systems it can from the drones on Ronnik's ship, all of Korok's fleet will have EMH Mark lVs and at least Korok will be able to communicate directly with Starfleet Command. That's a lot of technology being shared with an unknown group. I'd bet a treaty is in the works that will recognize the Free Borg as an ally of the Federation. And if Korok eventually manages to settle his forces on a planet they could actually become Federation members."

Picard nodded in agreement. "_**Enterprise**_ has been on enough diplomatic missions for me to recognize the activity. I think Kathryn is correct; there's a treaty being ironed out right now for Ronnik to carry back to Korok."

"How firm is that rumor about Barclay's communication system?" Riker asked Shelby.

"I got a whiff of it about four months before Voyager returned but haven't heard anything more about it since."

Riker turned to his wife. "You were close with Reg on _**Enterprise**_. How would you like to be our Mata Hari and find out what he's up to?"

"Mata Hari?" asked Deanna.

"Early 20th century Earth reference. Mata Hari was an exotic dancer and courtesan accused, tried and executed for being a spy during the first global conflict of the 20th century…World War l I believe they called it."

Deanna raised an eyebrow at her husband. "She was _executed_ and you want me to behave like her?"

Riker grinned rakishly and replied, "Well, we'd expect you to be better at it than she was."

"Better at being an exotic dancer or a courtesan?" asked Seven innocently.

Riker flushed crimson as the table dissolved in laughter. Deanna elbowed him sharply in the ribs and joined in the laughter.

"Believe me, if any of you have ever dealt with Reg you'll know how funny that really is. The poor man is incapable of keeping a secret with me. Trust me, if I ask him more than once he'll tell me everything. I believe I'll pay a visit to an old shipmate before we head back out."

"Well then, there's only one more thing we need to discuss before we can be social. How do we communicate securely?" asked Janeway.

"I have an idea about that," said Picard, explaining how to encode a message in an innocent looking written communication.

"All right then, send those memos and communiqués to my aide, Ensign Ethan Radcliffe. Use the words "Upcoming Visit" in the subject line. That will alert him that there's more to the message than just the text. We'll use Ethan as our clearing house."

"Are you sure you want to involve your aide in this, Kathryn?"

"Ethan's young, no question, but he's going to need to learn that sometimes there are issues bigger than politics and that we all have a greater duty than may sometimes be apparent in our orders. Besides, he's fiercely loyal and he'll be crushed if he finds out what's going on and that he wasn't included. He'll love it. Agreed?"

Once that last issue was settled Janeway and Seven and their guests adjourned to the great room for more coffee and conversation. The caterers cleared the dining room and quietly left while Janeway served brandy or Bailey's to go with the coffee. Several loose ends were tied up and the conversation turned to the upcoming wedding.

"So when are you two leaving for Indiana?" asked Beverly.

"We'll be in our offices two more days – through Friday – spend the weekend here and go to Indiana at the beginning of next week. There are get-togethers planned for most of the week with various old friends and family and it will just be easier if we're there instead of constantly beaming back and forth. Besides," Janeway said with a mock sigh, "who am I to deprive my kid sister her final opportunities to harass me about having to go all the way to the Delta quadrant to find somebody willing to marry me?"

Seven beamed at her fiancée as the group laughed. Shelby remained quiet during the discussion of how everyone was getting to the wedding since she had not been invited. Seven noticed that she was not participating in the conversation and using the guise of bringing Shelby more coffee quietly asked her if she was functioning adequately. Shelby smiled and merely said, "I was just listening to the conversation, Seven. I'm not invited to the wedding; I don't know the captain well enough."

Seven gave a small frown. "Do you have a dress uniform?"

"Of course. Every Starfleet officer has one."

"Then _I_ am inviting you to the wedding. 1300 hours next Saturday. Bloomington, Indiana. I will expect to see you there."

Unexpectedly touched by the Borg's concern Shelby could only nod her acceptance and smile. "I'll be there."


	4. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

An hour later Janeway and Seven were seeing their guests out. When they closed the door and turned back into their home Janeway sighed heavily.

"I'm beyond glad that's over and that we got everyone on board. This just might have a chance to work now."

"Did you have doubts that everyone would understand and agree with us, Kathryn?" Seven asked as she gathered up coffee cups and headed for the kitchen.

"No, not really. Both Picard and Will have enough experience in command that they realize that sometimes Starfleet doesn't know everything that's necessary to get a job done. I was worried most about Admiral Pulaski and Shelby. But since they're both on board it makes things so much easier." Janeway finished tidying the great room, collected the last of the evening's debris and headed for the kitchen too.

Once the house was restored to order they headed to the bedroom. As they readied for bed Janeway asked Seven her opinions of the evening.

"I did not have doubts about Commander Shelby since she had come to me asking for help. But I have met Locutus – Captain Picard – only once. The dynamic between Captain Riker and him is certainly different from the one I always sensed between you and Chakotay."

"I believe the difference is that Picard trusts Riker completely. And Riker trusts Picard the same way. Chakotay and I never had that trust after what he did when you first came aboard Voyager. Once he disobeyed my orders and dissolved our alliance with the Collective I never fully trusted him again. Our trust was broken for good when Ransom kidnapped you on the _**Equinox**_. I was so desperate to get you back I was prepared to sacrifice Noah Lessing to get the information I needed."

Seven stopped brushing her teeth and stared at her partner.

"Don't get me wrong, I still think he would have talked before it became too dangerous to pull him out, but Chakotay disobeyed me and freed him. But I have to admit that if he'd died it wouldn't have bothered me that much so long as I got you back. Either way, it was the end of trust between Chakotay and me."

Seven finished rinsing her mouth and wiped it with a towel. "Kathryn?"

Janeway realized a full explanation was necessary. "I was crazy with worry for you. Ransom was desperate by that time; he knew if I could stop him he'd be tried for crimes against sentient life forms and could very well spend the rest of his life in solitary confinement. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I couldn't be sure he would act like a Starfleet officer where you were concerned. When we discovered that you had locked out their power converters with Borg algorithms I knew he would kill you to get them. Why did you do that, darling?"

"If I had not Captain Ransom could have escaped from Voyager. Locking out the power converters was the only means I had to keep him from escaping."

"But why wouldn't you give him the codes when he demanded them?"

"I knew it was important to you that he be held accountable for his crimes by Starfleet standards. Not surrendering the codes was the only means I had to keep him within your reach."

"You were willing to die to keep him within our reach? In God's name, why?"

"Because it was important to you, Kathryn."

The looked intently at each other for a long moment before either spoke.

"You had been on Voyager less than two years. Even then?"

"Even earlier, Kathryn. I knew I loved you in Arturius' brig. When I said that I did not know where I belonged and you replied that I belonged with Voyager. Your words were 'You belong with us.' But your tone said 'You belong with me.' It was enough for me to realize how I felt about you."

Janeway's smile was rueful. "And I tried so hard not to let my feelings show through. I didn't want to frighten you."

Seven's answering smile was warm and inviting. "And yet we still managed to convince ourselves otherwise until our return to Earth. We wasted so much time being foolish."

Janeway moved next to Seven and slipped her arms around the taller woman's waist. "I don't plan to waste another moment, my love. Come to bed."

Seven enfolded the smaller woman in her arms. "Yes, Kathryn."

The next morning Seven woke before the chronometer alarm. Kathryn still slept; wrapped snugly in her arms. Seven had decided very early in their relationship that if she lived to be two hundred she would never lose the joy of waking with Kathryn in her arms. The feel of silken skin against her and the incredible warmth of their togetherness was nearly indescribable. They had discussed it frequently and neither could explain why they slept so well when together and so poorly when apart. They had finally realized that one of Kathryn's explanations was probably as close as they would ever get.

"It's a gift, darling."

* * *

Deanna Troi stepped up to the information desk at the Starfleet Communications complex and asked for directions to Reg Barclay's laboratory. The young ensign manning the desk asked her to wait while he called for an escort.

"I require an escort?" Her amusement was evident in the question.

"Yes, sir, Commander. Lieutenant Barclay's laboratory is in the secure section." He indicated a bench to one side of the lobby area for her to wait.

Several minutes later a junior lieutenant walked up to her and snapped to attention. "Counselor Troi? If you'll come with me ma'am, I'll take you to Lieutenant Barclay."

The trip to Barclay's lab took only a few minutes, but required their clearance through three separate security checkpoints. Once in the correct section of the building the young officer opened a door and gestured Deanna inside.

"Lieutenant Barclay is expecting you, ma'am."

She walked through the door and saw the familiar tall, spare form of Reg Barclay. His holo-addiction, acute hypochondria and stray mutant gene had caused no end of problems on _**Enterprise**_, but his engineering brilliance went a long way toward balancing the account. Deanna had a soft spot for the officer who had single-handedly developed the means of communicating with Voyager in the Delta quadrant. As he turned to greet her she noticed that he looked a bit older than when last she had visited with him.

Crossing the room in three strides, he threw his arms around her in a fierce hug. "Deanna! I'm so glad to see you! Why didn't I hear that _**Titan**_ was returning to McKinley? I would have arranged dinner for us."

"It was a quick trip Reg. We hadn't planned on it but something came up suddenly. We leave again tomorrow, but I wanted to make sure I saw you some time before we did. You look good, Reg. Duty at Headquarters suits you."

"And married life appears to suit you, Mrs. Riker. If I promise I know of a place where ninety percent of the dessert menu is chocolate can I convince you to have lunch with me?"

Deanna laughed gaily, delighted with Reg's demeanor. "Reg, I'm so happy to see you again I'd have lunch with you even if the dessert menu was only twenty percent chocolate!"

They spent the remainder of the morning catching up. Reg introduced her to several other officers in his section and showed her some of the projects he was currently working on. Deanna was positive and supportive and managed to pump him dry of information on his personal life and what he had been doing since last they saw each other. Once they were at lunch and settled at their table she went to work on him for real.

"So, Reg, it seems that life has been good to you since Pathfinder. Whatever happened with that?"

"What happened with that? We figured out a way to contact Voyager and kept in contact with them for the last two years of their mission."

"No, I meant after they got back. It just seems that the technology you developed would be so useful that it should be everywhere and yet there's nothing left of it. Why is that?"

Reg looked away and tried to formulate a reply. "Well, Deanna, I…I…don't know…know what you mean."

"Reg," she said gently, "You're stuttering. I know you well enough to know that means you're upset and you're hiding something. What is it?"

"I, well, it's…it's…I can't really talk about it, Deanna."

"Of course you can, Reg. I'm your counselor. You can tell me anything in the strictest confidence. What's happened with the project?"

"I've…I've received orders that…that make no…no sense. I'm supposed to drop everything and pre-prepare to install the…the system on an alien vessel!"

"Reg, just relax. Tell me about the communication system first so I understand and then we'll talk about your orders."

"Well, the system grew out of my work on Pathfinder. When we contacted Voyager we used a micro-wormhole and sent a data stream through it to them. But that system was limited in that unless you knew the projected course of the ship, you wouldn't know where to open the wormhole so they could receive the transmission. It worked with Voyager because we always knew their course and projected speed. But to be truly useful the system has to work anywhere. So I set about trying to figure out now to create micro-wormholes using a portable system."

"I'm trying to remember – what did you use for Pathfinder? An itinerant pulsar and a tachyon beam, wasn't it?"

Reg beamed at her. "I'm surprised you remembered. Yes, we shot a tachyon beam from the MIDAS array at the pulsar and created the wormhole. So I started working on how to create one with a portable system so it could be deployed on or from a starship. Since the MIDAS array is in a fixed location the end point of the micro-wormhole would always be fixed, but the ship could open the wormhole from anywhere."

"That makes perfect sense, Reg. But how do you create a wormhole?"

"It took quite a while to perfect the technique, but we discovered that an unstable warp field when hit with cascade harmonics in a tachyon beam will create a wormhole. Naturally, the power limitations of the warp engine limit the size of the wormhole, but it will create one. So what we developed was an unmanned drone that can be launched from a ship. When it reaches a thousand kilometers distance from the starship a small warp generator on board begins to form an unstable warp field. We then use a mini-deflector on the drone to project the tachyon bean and cascade harmonics at the field and we get a micro-wormhole. By utilizing the astrometrics data we obtained from Voyager we can point the exit aperture of the wormhole directly at the MIDAS array from anywhere in the Delta quadrant. When the data streams have been sent and received the drone collapses the warp field and returns to the ship."

"My God, Reg, that's amazing! And this works?"

"We've tested it with the Talaxian colony Voyager helped defend. They left a crewmember, Neelix, as a Federation Ambassador there; so there were protocols that allowed us to use their asteroid in the test. The system worked perfectly. It was immediately classified 'Top Secret' and the team disbanded."

"And now, suddenly, you're being asked to work on it again?"

"It's more than working on it. I've been ordered to build three of the drones for a long-term deployment and to prepare to train non-Starfleet personnel in their use. Deanna, we don't need communications like that in the Alpha quadrant. The only place we'd need those are in the other quadrants of the Galaxy! And they're not even going on Starfleet vessels!"

"Reg, calm down. I can't tell you much, but I can tell you that there is a very good reason for what you're being asked to do. And, if you do your job well, it will mean that Will and I and everyone on _**Titan**_ and _**Enterprise**_ will be much safer."

"And in the mean time, we're giving them our communications system so they can talk with us regularly?"

"Yes, Reg. That's the plan. Now, tell me, which of these fourteen different chocolate concoctions is best?"

When Deanna returned to her quarters on _**Titan**_ that afternoon she immediately set about encoding the results of her conversation with Barclay into a thank-you note to Janeway and Seven for the dinner the evening before. She copied all of the principles that had attended the dinner and then went in search of Will knowing that Reg Barclay would bend all his considerable talents to insuring that the comm system he would send with the Free Borg would be the most reliable in the Galaxy.

* * *

When Janeway returned to her offices at Utopia Planetia, she was greeted as usual by the aroma of rich, freshly brewed coffee. She strode into the office suite, called a cheerful "Good morning!" to Radcliffe and once in her office dropped into her desk chair. As she powered up her board Radcliffe entered the office with a mug of fresh coffee and her office thermos filled with the same marvelous brew.

"Ethan, pour yourself a mug and sit down. I'd like to talk with you about something." When the young officer was settled attentively in front of her she regarded him for a long moment thinking of the implications for his career. She decided the greater good of the quadrant outweighed individual concerns.

"Ensign, I'm about to trust you with not only the future of my career but very probably my freedom as well as Seven's. You're aware of the general facts of what's happened over the past five days, but I've deliberately kept you here and away from the particulars. I don't expect you to fully understand what I'm going to explain but I need you to try. If, when I'm finished, you feel you can't go along in good conscience then I'll have you reassigned and give you a glowing recommendation and my thanks for all you've done. If you decide to go along with my merry band of lunatics, it's very possible that we'll all wind up in a penal colony. Any questions so far?"

"No, Captain," he said calmly sipping his coffee.

"Okay then. You know that the Free Borg carried a warning to us that the Collective was planning an invasion of the Alpha quadrant and the assimilation of humanity. I also think you were listening when the first salvo of Starfleet's disapproval of Seven of Nine was heard. Since that first night they have unilaterally decided that she is a security risk and will not be involved in the arming, refitting or tactical planning of our fleet." At this point it was Janeway who paused to sip her coffee. "It has also become apparent to everyone except the Starfleet brass that our efforts to stop the invasion will fail utterly without her assistance." They regarded each other levelly for a long moment. Janeway sighed and formed her next words carefully.

"You're just starting out in your career in Starfleet and the ideals of it have been drilled into you during your years at the Academy. They are noble and admirable ideals and something to which every good Starfleet officer should aspire. But sometimes, Ethan, the realities of politics affect how Starfleet implements those ideals. Sometimes, they get lost in the human failings of those in charge. And right now may be one of those times." Radcliffe said nothing in response, merely continued drinking his coffee. "When that happens, Ethan, sometimes good officers need to take matters into their own hands. That's why it's so important that in day to day matters you always go by the book and dot all your _**i**_s and cross all your _**t**_s. Because at some point in time you're going to have to throw the book out and the only thing that will save you is that in everything else you went by it. I'm about to throw the book out, Ethan."

"How, Captain?"

"Captain Picard, Captain Riker, Admiral Pulaski, Counselor Troi, Dr. Crusher, Commander Shelby and my entire senior staff from Voyager are going to violate our direct orders and utilize Seven and her eidetic memory to circumvent the Department of Temporal Affairs, Starfleet Command and very probably the Federation Council. We're going to equip our fleet and our quadrant sensor grids with temporally illegal technology. If we're discovered before we can persuade Starfleet of the necessity of our actions it will mean a very long stretch in the closest penal colony."

Radcliffe set his mug on her desk and pulled out a small PADD. "What can I do to help, Captain?"

"Radcliffe, I'm not sure you fully understand the implications of what I'm…"

"You're saying that you and the others are trying to save Starfleet from itself. The brass has never, for the most part, dealt with the Borg. Certainly not as frequently or as closely as you and Picard and Riker have. And no one in the galaxy except maybe Korok's troops have the experience with the Collective that Seven has. To ignore her knowledge because of irrational fears of what she was is foolish. Our goal is to save humanity from assimilation; to attempt to do so without the best tools available condemns us to failure before we even get started. I repeat, what do you need from me?"

"I want to use you as a clearing house and central contact point for our little cadre. You'll be getting seemingly trivial communications from Picard and the others; they'll contain encoded messages. Your job will be to decrypt them, keep track of progress and to keep all of us up to speed with what's going on. Routine communications going through my aide should be regarded as business as usual by the powers that be."

"Of what exactly am I supposed to track the progress?" he inquired with a grin.

She slid a PADD across the desk to him. "Here's a list of everything we're working on right now. That list will change on a regular basis I'd guess, but that will do to get us going." She leaned back in her chair sipping her coffee as he accessed the PADD and read the contents.

Of all the ideas that had been tossed around, discussed, dissected and hashed out the evening before they had managed to formulate ongoing plans involving every member of the secret cadre. Seven would continue to build, test and perfect a slipstream drive. Once that project had progressed to the point where TPG would be involved and a prototype built she would shift her focus to the ablative hull armor and rotating shield harmonics systems. B'Elanna, Tom and Harry would help oversee the quiet installation of the armor and shielding in each of the fleet's vessels as they came through Utopia Planetia. Crusher, Pulaski and the EMH were to set up a replication process for the neurolytic pathogen and anti-Borg nanoprobes they would need. Riker and Tuvok were assigned the design of delivery systems for the nanoprobes and neurolytic pathogen for both personal and ships' weapons systems. Janeway and Picard were to work on fleet tactics utilizing their armor and shielding advances. Battle tactics would be diametrically opposite of standard Starfleet protocols if they were utilizing nanoprobe technology: wide-field dispersal weapons would be the norm.

When he finished Radcliffe looked up at his commanding officer and nodded. "I understand, Captain. But surely you're not communicating status reports openly?"

"No, Radcliffe, we've got an encryption system. Which I am about to teach you."

Thirty minutes later Radcliffe had mastered the encryption and decryption protocols and had built protected files in which to store their communications. As Janeway examined his work she thought about how fortunate she was to have him. He had proven himself every time a challenge had been thrown at him. He had the makings of a fine officer and Janeway offered a quick prayer of thanks to the local deities that he would remain safely at Headquarters while they went hunting the Borg.

"Nicely done, Radcliffe. I've always managed to avoid having an aide before this, but right now I think it's a shame starship captains don't need them. Between your organizational skills and your coffee I'm going to miss you when we go after the Borg," Janeway chuckled as she studied their hidden files.

Radcliffe's heart dropped to his toes when those words registered. They had been completely spontaneous; Janeway had spoken them unconsciously. She intended to leave him behind when she went to war. With a wrenching effort he composed his features to an impassive mask as his mind raced to process what he had just heard.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Janeway continued, "I want to file my senior staff requests this morning so their orders will be cut today. I'll fill the First Officer slot when I get back from my honeymoon, but I want to get the ball rolling with Tuvok, Torres, Kim and Paris. I want our EMH assigned to my flagship and I'm going to try and talk Kate Pulaski into coming out with us too. Her experience is just too valuable not to have with us. But I'll need to follow protocol and ask her first and I don't know if she'll agree. She hates transporters with a passion. Just go ahead and send these files on to Starfleet Personnel and we'll get the ball rolling on most of them. I can wait for Kate's answer until I get back."

Radcliffe's face didn't register his dismay at the orders he had been given. Instead he decided to take matters into his own hands. Taking the PADD with the personnel requisitions he smiled at Janeway, picked up his coffee mug and returned to his office.

* * *

That afternoon Janeway called Pulaski at her office. When the admiral activated the COMM link and appeared on her screen, Janeway wondered how her request would be received. She and Kate Pulaski had enjoyed a cordial relationship when Pulaski taught her at the Academy and had remained in contact throughout the intervening years, but Janeway didn't know how the senior flag officer would react to shipping out under a former pupil. Or if she'd consent to shipping out at all.

"Good afternoon, Admiral, how are you today?"

"I'm fine Kathryn. For some reason I thought you'd be back in Indiana already but I can see you're still at the office."

"Seven and I are heading back home first thing tomorrow morning. We'll be there until we leave on our honeymoon."

"Where are you headed? Off-world?"

"No, Seven wanted to stay on Earth. She said she wants to see as much of it as she can so we're heading to St. Lucia in the Lesser Antilles. The Windward Islands. I've got a secluded villa on a mountainside booked for us."

The older woman's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Did you call to ask me for a few hyposprays of vitamin B12 so you don't wear each other out?"

Janeway flushed in spite of herself. "I, uh, don't think that will be a problem, Admiral. Actually, I called to make you a job offer."

"A _job_ offer?"

"Yes, a job offer. I need a Fleet CMO who knows about dealing with Borg implants and the effects of assimilation. My EMH will be on my ship, but I need someone in overall charge of fleet medical who knows what they're doing. Interested?"

"You're kidding, right? You can't seriously be asking me to give up my Earth-based berth as Director of Starfleet Medical to get on another damned starship and go gallivanting around the galaxy with you. Hell, the last time you shipped out it was _seven years_ before you got back to space dock! And there will be _transporters_ involved, I just know it! You know how I feel about them!"

"If I promise to keep a shuttle available for your use and to keep you away from transporters if at all possible will you at least consider it?"

"Christ, I hate space travel!"

"Probably should have considered a career outside of Starfleet then."

Pulaski subsided, grumbling. "I'll never be able to work in a new office. I just got my desk chair to where it's comfortable. My keister is too old to break in another one."

"I'll make sure you have a private office and you can bring your desk chair with you if you'd like. Admiral, you know we need you."

"I do. But just because I know it doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy for you to seduce me away from the job I've worked for my whole career. If you want me there's a price."

"Name it. If there's any way I can meet it I will."

Pulaski regarded her quizzically for a moment then smiled wickedly. "I want you to seriously consider someone to be your First Officer."

Janeway was immediately on guard. "Who?"

"You don't know her. She was a patient of mine during the Dominion War and we've stayed close. She needs to get back on a ship and you need a good First Officer."

"What do you mean 'she needs to get back on a ship'? If she's a command officer why isn't she on a ship now?"

"I'll transmit her complete files to you. You can take them with you when you go back to Indiana and review them while you're relaxing. If you want me on your ship, then when you get back from your honeymoon you'll give her a serious interview and consideration for the position. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

"I'm not _required_ to accept her? As long as I give her a serious interview and a fair chance, then even if I decide to go with someone else you'll still agree to come with us?"

"That's right. Because if you give her a serious look I haven't a doubt in the world you'll want her in the command chair next to you. You're a starship captain; that means you're a bit of a gambler at heart. What do you say?"

"It's a deal. Transmit her records to me this afternoon and I'll take them with me to Indiana."

"They're already on the way. Your aide should be receiving them about now."

Janeway chuckled quietly. "You were pretty sure of yourself, weren't you?"

Pulaski grinned back at her. "I know how badly you need me. And I'm not above using that leverage to get a good officer back where she belongs. I'll see you next weekend. I'm working on a particularly embarrassing toast for the reception. Pulaski out."

Thinking back on some of her more embarrassing moments while at the Academy, Janeway grimaced as she deactivated the COMM. She hit the intercom.

"Radcliffe? I'm expecting a file from Admiral Pulaski. I need you to…"

Ethan entered her office with a PADD in hand. "Got the records right here, Captain. They just arrived. And speaking of arriving, won't Seven be getting home about now? You need to be leaving for home real soon."

Janeway stood and took the PADD from him, slipping it into the inner pocket of her tunic. "You're absolutely right, Ethan, and I'm leaving right now. I'll see you Friday afternoon at the rehearsal. Don't hesitate to call me this week if you need me."

"Don't worry, Captain, I will. Good luck this week. I'll see you next weekend."

The two shook hands and Janeway departed for the transport center and home.


	5. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

Radcliffe entered the Commissary and quickly scanned the room for Max. If you needed information about Utopia Planetia in a hurry Max was the source you wanted. He and Max had hit it off immediately when they first met three years ago. Both had been cadets at Starfleet Academy; Ethan in his first, or Plebe, year and a lowly Cadet Fourth class while Max was in his third year and a Cadet Second Class. Max had come across a couple of his classmates giving Ethan an impromptu grilling on the standing orders for Starfleet officers and had taken a shine to the determined, if slightly inept, young cadet. Under Max's tutelage Ethan had blossomed at the Academy, eventually graduating with honors and a midshipman/officer rank.

When Max had been critically burned during the rupture of a plasma injector four months into his first starship billet it was Ethan who spent every possible evening at the Starfleet Medical complex while Max's legs were painstakingly rebuilt. Max never qualified for starship duty again, instead opting for an HQ berth running the Utopia Planetia Commissary and Officers' Club. Most Starfleet officers regarded it as a garbage billet, but the gregarious Max truly enjoyed his job. He was at the center of things on Mars; all gossip flowed through his domain. If he liked you, you never had to watch your back. And Max liked Ethan.

Catching sight of Max across the room Ethan threw him a wave and pointed at a quiet table away from the general crowds. After a few minutes Max disengaged himself from the group he'd been chatting with and made his way over to where his friend sat.

"What's up, Ethan?"

"Just sent Captain Janeway off to her wedding. She's out of the office until after the honeymoon."

"So, you get to manage the place by yourself?"

"Lieutenant Torres is in the office most of the week and Voyager's EMH has a couple of things he's in and out about."

"So why are you looking for me now? I thought we were slated to get together for supper tonight? What couldn't wait until then?"

Ethan paused a moment collecting his thoughts. Unconsciously, he toyed with the mug of coffee in front of him. Max didn't miss his hesitation.

"Max, what do you know about…I mean, do you know anything about what went on last weekend?"

Max eyed the young officer a moment and then leaned toward him so as not to be overheard.

"Are you asking me what I know about the Borg ship that's currently locked away in one of the high security berths at McKinley Station?" Ethan nodded.

"Just that it popped out of a transwarp conduit near DS7 asking for your Captain Janeway and was immediately escorted to HQ. I know that the drones on it are being rotated in and out of Starfleet Medical while Voyager's EMH and Admiral Pulaski teach as many doctors and medics as they can how to remove Borg implants and maintain what they can't remove. I know that the Intelligence division is neck deep in deciphering Borg tactical logs that the ship brought with it. And I know that Janeway isn't getting Voyager back even if she is still nominally in charge of the refit. She's getting a dreadnought to go somewhere with a whole host of battleships to tag along with her. Am I missing anything?"

"Just one _tiny_ detail," said Radcliffe ruefully, "She's planning on leaving her loyal aide behind when she goes back into space."

"Is that so bad? You know you've got a job here any time you want it. And after working for Janeway, I'd think you'd have your pick of science officer billets."

"I don't want a science officer billet. The only reason I majored in science was to please my folks. As long as I majored in a 'safe' field my folks didn't hassle me about Starfleet. I could stay at the Academy as long as I wasn't trying to be a hero."

"And now you _want_ to be a hero, is that it?"

"I don't want to be a hero, I just want to ship out with a captain that I respect and can learn from. She's all that and more and you know it! How many times have we talked about the second-raters who got promoted just because everybody else got killed in the Dominion War? You know as well as I do that Starfleet lost most of its experienced commanders in the War. Janeway is going to have to train the captains and crews in her fleet to fight the Borg like she did. She's going to need the best crew she can get and I can contribute to that."

Max asked as gently as he could, "You're sure that's not just wishful thinking, Ethan? You really don't have the training to qualify for 'fleet duty in a combat situation. A science ship, yes. But a warship? Where you have to have tactical knowledge? I'm sorry my friend."

"I know, Max. But I'll think of something, I've got to! At least they aren't shipping out for months yet; I've got some time to work with. I just need to keep whatever I do hidden from Captain Janeway."

"Why do you have to hide it?"

"Because she seemed almost glad when she told me I wasn't going with them. I don't know why, but she wasn't at all upset over leaving me behind. My gut says that if she finds out she'll find some way to stop me."

"That won't be hard. She's the _captain_ – she can do what she wants with the crew manifest. Or are you planning on keeping yourself a secret for the entire mission? Because if you try that she's gonna find out. And you'll be lucky if she doesn't drop you off at the first backwater port the ship gets _near_ and leaves you there to rot. Ethan, I think you're crazy."

"I can't explain it, Max. But do you remember how excited you were when you got your assignment to the _**Centauri?**_ Well that's how I feel being assigned to Captain Janeway. I want to stay with her, Max."

Max caught sight of one of his employees trying to catch his attention. He sketched a wave at the man and stood. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to stay with Captain Janeway. It's just doing deceitful things to accomplish it that's going to be a problem. I'll catch you in a couple of hours for supper."

With that he turned and walked away. Ethan continued to sip his coffee, trying to figure out what he had to do to become qualified to serve on a warship in Starfleet. Shaking his head in frustration he rose and refilled his mug. When he returned to his table he grinned in welcome and said, "I never expected to see _you_ here, sir! Is something up?"

* * *

_This has to have been the craziest day of my life_ thought the Marine's newest captain as he watched the shuttle's final approach to the Mars terminal. _And it isn't over yet…_

_**Earlier that day…**_

Lieutenant Jim Martin sat in the cramped office that he shared with two other platoon leaders in the administrative wing of the Marine barracks at the Presidio. He reflected on the irony that a platoon leader's job was ostensibly to lead his platoon but the paperwork required kept the platoon leader more often chained to a desk than in the field with his men. Finishing the last PADD in that morning's stack he stretched and was reaching for his mug of tepid coffee when his COMM badge chirped.

"Thompson to Martin."

"Martin here, sir. How can I help you?"

"I just got a call from Starfleet Headquarters, Lieutenant. You're to report to Admiral Patterson's office at 1300 hours this afternoon. No reason given."

"Aye aye, sir. I'll be there."

"Very well, Lieutenant. Thompson, out."

Martin left his completed PADDs to be logged by the company clerk and returned to his rooms in the BOQ. He checked that his shave was still close and changed into a fresh Class A uniform. He gave the mirror shine on his shoes a quick, and unnecessary, buff and headed to the transport center of the base. Ten minutes later he was walking into the anteroom of Admiral Patterson's office at Starfleet Headquarters.

"Go right in, Lieutenant." Admiral Patterson's secretary smiled and indicated the door to the inner sanctum. "They're expecting you."

Flashing a grin in return Martin tugged his tunic down, knocked sharply on the door and stepped through briskly at the "Come!" response it generated. He marched to a distance of eighteen inches from the front of Patterson's desk, snapped to attention and barked "Lieutenant Martin reporting as ordered, sir!"

"At ease, Lieutenant. Damn, you Marines always make me feel like us Starfleet Officers are a bunch of slobs with no clue of what military courtesy ought to be. Have a seat, son." He indicated a conversation area to one side of the office.

Relaxing from his rigid stance at attention Martin greeted Admirals Patterson and Paris as he sat in one of easy chairs. Accepting a cup of coffee from Admiral Paris, he looked at the senior officers expectantly.

"Do you need another security detail for Seven of Nine and Captain Janeway? And will my men need their dress uniforms for the wedding?"

The admirals laughed and glanced at each other. "Smart too," remarked Paris to Patterson. "Yes, Lieutenant, you and some of your men will be taking a trip to Indiana this weekend and _yes_; you will all need dress uniforms. Mess dress, in fact. It's an evening wedding. And Admiral Patterson and I wanted to ask a favor or you too."

"What favor, sir?"

"Marines are renowned for their knowledge of arcane military ceremonies and traditions. Do you and your men know anything about the Arch of Swords?"

"Of course, Admiral. A detail of no less than six officers and/or NCOs pair off, face each other and in unison, raise their swords or sabers into an arch under which the bridal couple passes."

"Do you think that you and your men might perform that rite for Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine?"

"I'll get my men polishing their Mamelukes right away, Admiral. We'll drill a few times this week to make sure we don't embarrass the Corps and do it next Saturday night."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That's going to be a little gift to the captain from the Admiral and I. But there's one small problem."

"What's that, Admiral?"

"We think that the detail should be commanded by someone of higher rank than you."

Martin was stunned but quickly regained his poise. "Of course, Admiral. I'll approach my C.O. as soon as I return to the barracks and request that he…"

Paris and Patterson looked at each other again. "Maybe not as smart as we originally thought. Oh well, too late now." Both flag officers stood and Martin quickly sought a place to set his coffee cup so he could rise as well. When he had Admiral Paris barked "Attention!"

Martin's reflex was immediate, his position flawless. Admiral Patterson pulled a piece of paper from inside his tunic and began to read.

"Reposing full faith in your abilities and loyalty to the United Federation of Planets, you are hereby promoted to the rank of CAPTAIN, Federation Fleet Marine Corps effective this date with all attendant rights and privileges therein. Congratulations, Captain Martin."

Admiral Paris pulled a small black box from his pocket, opened it and stepped forward to pin the twin silver bars on Martin's collar.

When he stepped back Martin shook hands with the senior officers. "Thank you, sirs!"

"As you were, Captain. Now we need to sit down and really talk, son." They assumed their seats again and Patterson leaned forward intently.

"How much have you heard about what went on last weekend and this week?"

"Scuttlebutt mostly, sir. I can tell you that rumors are running wild. I've heard everything from an invasion force from the Delta quadrant followed Voyager back to the Alpha quadrant and is on their way, to Voyager is being sent back to the Delta quadrant for crimes against their sentient life forms and everything in between. One common thread seems to be the link to the Delta quadrant and the fact that Voyager is somehow involved. But officially, sir? I don't know a thing."

"Well, here's what happened. We were all at the engagement party for Kathryn and Seven when the Borg showed up near DS7…" Admirals Paris and Patterson took their time telling Martin every detail of events from the past week. When they finished they regarded him gravely.

"As you've probably noticed the politics of this whole thing have caused a wide difference in opinions on how it should be dealt with. But sometimes politics don't make for the best tactical solutions to a problem. You're going to have to be very, very flexible in your new assignment."

"And exactly what would my new assignment be, sir?"

"Captain Thompson is being reassigned and you're being given command of the 1st Rifle Company, Fleet Marine Security Group and being named as the new Security Chief of Utopia Planetia Shipyards. You and your company are being temporarily detached from Marine CentCom and assigned to Starfleet Security. You'll report directly to me for the duration of this event." As Director of Starfleet Security Admiral Patterson had the Security Chiefs of McKinley Station, Utopia Planetia and Starfleet Headquarters and their troops under his command.

"How soon do you want us in place, Admiral?"

"How soon can you be ready to deploy?"

"I can be on site tonight with the rest of the company deploying tomorrow morning. We can be settled in with standard patrol and duty assignments up and running by tomorrow evening."

"Do it, Captain Martin." The three men rose and shook hands. As they were exchanging a few final words the door to the office opened and Admiral Quinn strode in.

"I apologize, gentlemen. I thought you'd be finished briefing our newest Captain by now. Congratulations, Martin, the promotion is well-deserved."

"Thank you, sir."

"I trust Admirals Patterson and Paris have explained all the nuances of your new assignment. Good luck to you, Martin. Gentlemen, I'll see you all a bit later on." Quinn nodded and left the office. As the door closed behind him Paris and Patterson looked gravely at Martin.

"There is every possibility that Captain Janeway may encounter difficulties in carrying out her orders. We expect you to give her all possible assistance once you get to Mars."

Martin understood completely. He was being subtly informed that if he needed to go off the page to help Janeway that he had the tacit approval of Paris and Patterson and that their authority came directly from the Chief of Operations, Admiral Quinn.

"Yes, sir. You can count on me and my men. And thank you, sirs."

"We'll let you get moving, Captain. Good luck to you and we'll expect regular status updates."

"Aye, aye, sir!" In moments Martin was heading back to the Presidio to mobilize his company and pack his bags.

Two hours later Martin and his two carryalls were on the shuttle to Mars. His new rifle company was preparing for their own transport to Mars the next day. When the shuttle landed he headed for Base Admin to check in and obtain housing for his troops and himself.

An hour later he was standing next to his bags in the entry of a neat cottage on the shore of the lake adjoining the base. He took a quick stroll through his new residence, dropping his bags in the master bedroom. Furniture had been requisitioned from Base Stores and would be delivered the next morning, but a bed for him was on the way now. He decided to check in at his new post and headed for the base.

When he entered the Security Offices he met a small group of Starfleet officers huddled together in an intense but quiet discussion. A female ensign caught sight of him and said loudly "Attention on deck!" as she snapped to that position. The rest of the group quickly followed suit. Martin gave them a quick once over, noting with approval the state of their uniforms and boots before releasing them with "As you were!"

The group consisted of two female officers, a Lieutenant JG and the Ensign who caught sight of him first. The rest of the Starfleet officers were senior petty officers, four in all.

"I'm Captain Martin of the 1st Rifle Company, FMSG. We've been reassigned to Utopia Planetia for the foreseeable future. I'll be commanding the base security forces. Now, who are all of you?"

The junior lieutenant stepped forward and introduced the group. The junior officers had been on their own for three days since the previous chief of security had a meeting with Starfleet Security and promptly retired from active duty. Martin sat down with them and went over the duty rosters and reviewed the logs of the previous week. After doing so it became apparent to him that these two kids and the petty officers had been running security for a lot longer than three days. The previous security chief had been coasting since the end of the Dominion War, just putting in his time until he could retire. Martin decided that the service of the junior officers deserved recognition and made a mental note to make sure they received commendations for their work.

He approved the duty rosters and arranged to meet with the group at 1000 hours the next day to retool the duty assignments to reflect the addition of his rifle company to the security forces. Not only would there be additional troops to patrol the base and shipyards, but more officers to oversee operations as well. Martin took the responsibility seriously, knowing that the shipyards they guarded could very well spell the difference between survival and total assimilation for humanity.

Once he'd made sure that all stations were covered and that not only the patrols but the duty officers had backup he left the office and went in search of Ensign Radcliffe to check in and let Janeway's group know that he was onsite. When he found the offices dark and locked he hailed the security offices and asked for a base-wide scan for Radcliffe's COMM badge. When he received the answer he headed to the Commissary at a good clip.

Radcliffe was sitting at a quiet corner table brooding over a mug of coffee. He grinned when he caught sight of Martin and welcomed him to sit down. When Martin did Radcliffe noticed the new silver bars on his collar and congratulated him heartily.

"_Captain?_ Sir, that's fantastic! Everybody in the office will be excited to hear that news. They haven't forgotten what you and your men did to help get Seven of Nine back; they talk about it all the time."

"Well, they'll have a chance to congratulate me in person if they want to. I've been assigned here as Chief of Security. My rifle company arrives tomorrow."

Radcliffe nodded knowingly. "It's good to know they're beefing up security on the base and shipyards with everything that's going on."

Martin raised an eyebrow in query. "And I suppose you know what's going on, do you?"

Radcliffe had the good sense to blush when he realized his mistake. "Well, sir, Captain Janeway is sort of deeply involved, sir, and she sort of let it slip, sir. I really don't go shooting my mouth off, sir. Really!"

Martin decided to let the youngster off the hook. "I know that, Ensign. And if an officer of Captain Janeway's caliber thinks you should know, then you should know. Speaking of your boss, I was kind of hoping to catch her before she left for Indiana. I don't suppose I'm lucky enough that she's still on base, is she?"

"No, sir. She left for San Francisco a couple of hours ago. She and Seven are leaving for Indiana fairly early tomorrow morning and they won't be back until after the honeymoon."

"Well, I guess I see her next weekend then."

"You're coming to the wedding, Captain?"

"Yes, I'm bringing a squad along for security. And we'll have a little surprise for Seven and the Captain after the ceremony too. I'm assuming I'll see you there?"

Radcliffe laughed. "Yes, sir. Lieutenants Torres and Paris and I have worked out another surprise for the Captain and Seven. Miral, their daughter is going to be the flower girl and I'm going to be the ring bearer…and the flower girl bearer."

"The flower girl bearer?"

"Miral is only a few months old, sir. She doesn't walk yet. Or scatter flowers. So I'm carrying her and the rings down the aisle and scattering the flowers as we go. "

Martin joined the young ensign in laughter. "I'm looking forward to seeing that, Ensign. I'm assuming you'll be in a dress uniform while you scatter the flowers?"

"Yes, sir, I will. And I believe that Miral will be also, although when last I spoke with her mother they were having a bit of trouble finding Starfleet-issue boots in her size. She might have to make do with black booties."

Martin couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up at that visual image. But as he thought about it, it made sense. The Voyager crew was more than a crew; they were a family. Radcliffe and Miral were just the newest members and all the family was participating in the wedding of its matriarch to the woman she loved. The woman they had accepted into their number and fought for on more than one occasion. There was a comforting sense of symmetry in that.

"So, what else is going on, Ensign Radcliffe? When I walked in here you look like you'd just lost your puppy."

"I…it's nothing, sir. I just need to solve a problem. I don't want to bother you with it."

"C'mon, Radcliffe. We've stood up to Commander Chakotay together. Tell me. Maybe I can help."

Radcliffe looked at him bleakly. "I was having a conversation with Captain Janeway the other day. We were working on some things and she…she said that she was going to miss me when she went back into space. She's not planning on taking me with her."

Martin thought about how best to phrase his reply. "Ethan, Starship captains don't _have_ aides. The command structure on a starship makes it unnecessary. On board a ship the captain's word is law and everyone on board does what the captain orders. There are no other officers of equal rank, nobody to challenge the captain or order the captain around or demand something of the captain or any of the other things that happen daily on a base."

"I know that, Captain Martin, but that doesn't stop me wanting to go with her. I know I can make myself useful to her."

"As what, Ethan? Your undergraduate studies focused on exobiology and the sciences, didn't it? There's no room for science labs on a warship and you know as well as I do that the next ship Captain Janeway takes out will be a warship."

"Then I'll re-qualify for some other position! All the officers from Voyager are going to be offered posting on her new ship. They'll accept them because they're loyal to her. Well I care about her just as much as they do… It's not fair!" the young officer burst out.

Martin regarded him for a moment. "No, it's not. But that's the nature of military service and you knew that going in. So what's really wrong, Radcliffe?"

"She was happy I wasn't going," the young man mumbled.

"And that bothers you?"

"Of course it bothers me! We get along really well. She says I'm going to make a fine officer and that I'm doing a great job. But she won't take me along when she goes off to fight the Borg! If she's going to be in danger then I want to be in danger with her!"

"Keep your voice down, Ensign!" snapped Martin. "That information is need-to-know. And just because Janeway thought you needed to know does not mean that the rest of the clientele in the Commissary needs to!"

Radcliffe looked down into his coffee mug and apologized. "I'm sorry, Captain. It's just that I respect her so much and I want her to respect me. But obviously she doesn't. Apparently I'm good enough to help her out planet side, but when she goes into the Delta quadrant to fight the Borg, when it _really_ counts, I'm not good enough to bring along. And she was glad about it!"

Martin sighed. This was one of those lessons young officers needed to learn, but Martin always hoped that it would happen later in their careers rather than earlier.

"Ethan, I'm going to teach you something about being an officer that they never tell you about at the Academy. It is a fairly simple truth; one that every officer – every _good_ officer – carries in their heart. And here it is: you never forget the ones you lose. Their faces haunt you your whole life. So, given that, don't you think it's just possible that Captain Janeway likes you so much that she doesn't want to put you in danger? So she doesn't have to risk seeing your face for the rest of her life? And that's why she was happy at the thought that you wouldn't be coming along on a mission that will surely have casualties? Because she knew you'd be safe that way?"

"That doesn't matter! I want to go with her and Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine. Why should all of them go off into danger and not me? They all go because they love Captain Janeway – why am I not allowed to love like that too?"

"Do you, Ethan? Do you care for Captain Janeway as much as her Voyager crew does?"

"Yes I do! I knew it the first few days I worked for her. I knew she was going to be the officer that I judged every other officer by. I knew it that first day!"

Martin regarded the earnest young officer intently and came to a decision. "And you're sure that you want to go off into the Delta quadrant and risk being assimilated?"

"Yes, sir! And I'm not even going to get into the fact that it's my duty as a Starfleet officer. I want to go with them. They're the kind of crew you dream about serving with."

"That's certainly true. All right, Ensign. Are you prepared to give up most of your evenings and suffer countless injuries to ship out with Captain Janeway?"

"Anything! I'll do anything you ask of me!"

"Okay then, Ensign Radcliffe. The simplest way to qualify for duty on a warship when you don't have a service specialty is to get assigned to the Security and Tactical teams on board. That means you need to have a Class three rating or higher in weapons and hand-to-hand combat. I'm the new Security Chief here; my Marines and the Starfleet personnel assigned to Security all train continually. We can teach you what you need to know to qualify. After we get you your ratings you're on your own, but we can make sure you qualify. It won't be easy and most mornings you're going to wish you could die you'll be hurting so badly, but we can get you qualified. Once more – are you _sure_ you want to do this?"

"I've never been more sure of anything, Captain. Yes, sir, I want to do this!"

"Outstanding! This will give some of my men a good opportunity to learn how to train less experienced men. That's a necessary skill for a noncom. Okay then, since we've settled that, how about dinner this evening?"

"I'm meeting my friend Max for supper in about an hour. You'd be welcome to join us. In fact, it would probably be a good idea for you to meet Max; he runs the Commissary and the Officers' Club here and hears all the gossip. He would be a good man for the new Chief of Security to know."

"He certainly would. And the new Chief of Security is going to take you up on your offer. But in the meantime how do you feel about helping the new Security Chief unpack his bags and throw some sheets on the new bed he hopes has been delivered to his quarters?"

"Well, I don't know about the new Security Chief, but I'll be glad to help my friend settle into his new quarters. How's that sound?"

"Like a plan, Ensign. Like a plan." The two men rose and headed out of the Commissary laughing.

Unseen by either of them a pair of deep blue eyes at an adjacent table followed their every move. When the two men had exited the dining room the officer no one else had noticed rose and followed.


	6. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

First thing Monday morning Martin led his troops on their morning run, showered and headed for the Commissary for breakfast. Returning to his offices he checked a couple of roster changes and then set up the training simulations for the day in the departmental holodeck. It was one of the perks of serving on Mars that the Security details had their own holodeck suite in which to run training simulations without having to reserve time in the base facility with everyone else assigned to the Mars base. When he was clear on the daily training assignments he set up the preliminary simulation for Radcliffe for later that night. Finishing that he hailed Radcliffe on his COMM badge.

"Martin to Radcliffe."

"Radcliffe here, Captain."

"We're set up for your first training run at 1900 hours tonight. Do you know where the Security holodeck is?"

"Yes I do, Captain. Do I need to bring anything special?"

"Just wear your workout clothes. We're going to run you through a simulation to get a feel for your skill levels now and then we'll do a little sparring. That sound okay to you?"

"It sure does."

Martin chuckled evilly. "It won't when we're finished. 1900 hours. I'll see you then. Martin, out."

Ethan arrived at the security department's holodeck five minutes before the scheduled workout and found Martin and two staff sergeants frowning at the status readouts on the screen outside the holodeck doorway. All three Marines were dressed in camouflage BDUs and carried workout bags.

"Good evening. I'm not late, am I?"

"No, you're early in fact," replied Martin still staring at the screen. "But apparently somebody else had decided to use the holodeck tonight without signing up for it. And I'm not sure I like what they're doing in there."

"What don't you like, Captain?"

"They've disengaged the safety protocols on one of the advanced training programs. Somebody could get seriously hurt doing that."

"How seriously hurt?" asked Radcliffe quietly.

"Like dead." Martin made his decision and entered the command override codes. He froze the program and ordered the doors opened.

They walked into a scene of utter chaos. The setting appeared to be the hangar bay of a Galaxy-class starship. It was filled with Starfleet troops fighting Jem'Hadar invaders. Bodies and pools of blood were everywhere. Since Martin had frozen the program only one figure was still moving.

She was tall, Radcliffe noticed, but not as tall as Seven of Nine. Her short chestnut hair had some silver in it and clear blue eyes looked at them with a glint of humor. There was a C-shaped scar around her left eye and she was limping on her left leg. A duranium brace and heavy scarring around the knee visible through a tear in her BDUs gave ample indication why.

She was armed with a flare stick and a hand phaser and apparently knew how to use both; there were the bodies of four Jem'Hadar around her and a fifth doubled over from what had been her most recent blow.

"Can I help you, fellas?" she asked nonchalantly.

"You can start by telling me who you are and what you're doing in my holodeck," replied Martin.

"That must make you the new Security Chief," Limping over to a bulkhead she took a towel out of her workout bag and began wiping the sweat and blood off her face. "I'm Lieutenant McDeere from Logistics and Supply. Lieutenant Commander Neiral gave me the access codes and permission to use the holodeck."

"Captain Martin. Even if you had permission, it's customary to sign the log in Security so others will know when you're using it. And it is _not_ customary to disengage the safety protocols."

"Sorry, the log was never an issue with Neiral. And as for the safeties…" She caught sight of Radcliffe and the NCOs who had snapped to attention at the mention of her rank. "Gee guys, at ease. Relax before you break something." Turning back to Martin she said, "As for the safeties, it's not as much fun to play with them on."

Martin's tone was icy. "Running an advanced simulation like this one alone in the holodeck with the safeties off is a good way to get yourself killed. It's beyond foolhardy. It's bordering on suicidal."

"I assure you, I'm not suicidal. But my experience with the Jem'Hadar can't be duplicated with safeties on. They are terrifying adversaries; something you don't feel when they can't actually hurt you. Because in real life they can and do. Frequently. So I take the safeties off. It's a better workout."

One of the NCOs laughed as Martin looked at the blood dripping down her face from a gash in her hairline.

"I see. And is the quality of your workout determined by the amount of blood you lose?"

"No, one of them got in a lucky shot just before you froze the program. I've got a dermal regenerator in here to take care of…" She rummaged through her workout bag and came out with a dermal regenerator. As she felt around on her scalp for the wound Martin stepped forward and reached for the medical device.

"May I? I have a better visual."

Straightening, she handed it to him. "Thanks, I'd appreciate it."

No one spoke for the minute or so it took to close and completely heal the laceration in her scalp. When he finished Martin silently handed the regenerator back to McDeere and watched as she casually tossed it back into her bag.

"So, what are you gentlemen planning on doing tonight?"

"We're going to see what kind of skills Radcliffe here has. He thinks he wants to qualify for starship duty in Security and Tactical."

"You'll need a strong class three rating in two weapons types and one form of hand-to-hand combat for that Ensign. That can mean a lot of work…and a lot of bruises."

"You seen very familiar with starship duty requirements for a supply officer, Lieutenant," commented Martin.

McDeere gave him a strange look. "In another life I was assigned to a starship or two. Some of us weren't born rear echelon weenies. Some of us have it thrust upon us."

"Care to elaborate on that, _Lieutenant_?"

"No, I would not, _Captain_."

The two senior officers glared at each other for several seconds before first Martin then McDeere visibly relaxed. He extended his hand. Martin was too professional to quarrel with the woman in front of junior officers. Technically they were both of the same rank but he was the new guy on the block and he couldn't expect everyone to immediately change their way of doing things just because there was a new commanding officer on deck. With what they might be facing soon he would need the obedience and respect of his subordinates. He wouldn't earn that if he came in bristling and barking.

"I'm Jim, Jim Martin."

She took it and shook it firmly. "Jordan McDeere."

Martin introduced Radcliffe and the NCOs and everyone shook hands. When Jordan got to Radcliffe she grinned. "So you're the Ethan Radcliffe that's been routing all of Voyager's refit requisitions to me."

He grinned right back. "Then that must mean you're the Lieutenant McDeere that gets them filled and shipped on time so we have what we need when we need it."

"Just don't advertise that fact if you want it to continue. If Lieutenant Commander Nixon finds out I'm expediting your requisitions he'll be all over me like white on rice."

"Believe me I won't, Lieutenant," Radcliffe said earnestly, "We're too glad to have the supplies here when we need them."

"So, you seem to know a little something about the Security needs of a starship, Lieutenant McDeere. Would you like to help us evaluate Radcliffe here? You might have a better grasp of what he'll need to know than we do. Our tactical focus is different in the Marines than it would be on a starship."

"Sure, I'd be glad to help out. Besides, if helping train Radcliffe gets me into the holodeck on a regular basis I'll do it just for that."

"Don't worry; you've still got clearance. All I ask is that you call and put your name on the schedule from now on and for the love of everything that's holy have somebody here if you're going to go without safeties. Just so they can call for a medic before you get killed. Do you have any idea of the paperwork I'd have to deal with if you died in my holodeck?"

Jordan grinned and reached out to shake his hand again. "Deal, Captain."

With the technicalities out of the way the group got ready to evaluate Radcliffe's skill levels. Martin called up a basic marksmanship program and Ethan pulled his phaser and took a position at the firing line. As he assumed his firing stance the NCOs stood behind him and observed while Martin and McDeere stood slightly to one side and observed both his technique and his accuracy on the range.

"He's trying too hard and rushing the shot," commented Martin. "Rookie mistake."

"Looks like maybe he has a dominant left eye," replied McDeere, "Look how he tilts his head when he's sighting."

"You may be right." Martin watched Radcliffe intently for a minute and nodded at McDeere. "I think you hit it on the nose. He's sighting with his left eye and shooting with his right hand. We need to change his stance a bit to compensate."

He told the NCOs the information and they began to work with Radcliffe on his stance and sighting technique. By the end of an hour his accuracy had improved by almost sixty percent. Both Martin and McDeere nodded their approval.

"Well done, Ensign. You're going to need to practice that new stance and your sighting until it becomes second nature. But the results are obvious."

Ethan, for his part, was thrilled with the results. He'd passed his basic marksmanship requirements at the Academy, but had never worked on shooting since. The new stance the Marines had put him in felt awkward, but allowed him to use his dominant eye in a more efficient manner and his aim had improved accordingly.

Martin next brought up a rifle range and one of the NCOs pulled a compression phaser rifle out of his workout bag. Handing it to Radcliffe he commented that for their purposes it needed to stay on a narrow beam setting. They again adjusted his stance to compensate for his dominant left eye and he began firing. This time his inexperience showed more readily.

"Practice. He's going to need lots of practice," said Martin.

"You got that one right," agreed McDeere. "He's going to be spending a lot of time on this range for the near future. It'll be best if he qualifies for his weapons ratings first. Hand to hand will take more time to learn and he'll need to practice a lot. Once he gets his weapons ratings he can keep them up to date with weekly practice while he works on his hand-to-hand skills."

"Listen, I'm going to be busy for the next couple of weeks getting my troops settled in and on a working schedule. Would you mind working with him for a while? Once we get settled into a patrol routine I'll have more time."

"Sure, Jim. I can work with him. And I can start him on some basic hand-to-hand techniques too."

"Thanks, McDeere. Jordan. I appreciate it. And I know Ethan does too."

"You're welcome…I think. You _did_ tell him honestly how hard this was going to be, didn't you?"

"I told him most mornings he'd wish he was dead. Was that honest enough?"

"Well, it's close. But I wonder if he's mentally ready for what he's going to be facing. Most kids fresh out of the Academy aren't."

"I actually think he is. The young man is what we would call _highly motivated_. He wants this badly. And I think he'll do whatever he has to do to make it happen."

"We'll see, Captain. We'll see."

* * *

The next morning came far too early for Ensign Radcliffe. When he crawled out of his bunk he could barely stand upright. The 'light workout' the Marines had put him through to assess his hand-to-hand skills had seemed more like a barroom brawl than a training session. He spent far longer than usual in a hot shower before he felt capable of moving in a coordinated manner.

When he got to the Commissary for breakfast Max brought coffee over to the table and joined him.

"Ethan, my friend, you look like death on toast. Had your first workout session, did you?"

"Yeah I did. The Marines nearly killed me. But damn, Max, those guys can fight. And they know their way about a shooting range too. It took them less than ten minutes to figure out that I've been trying to sight with the wrong eye since the Academy. They altered my stance a little so I could sight with my dominant eye and all of a sudden I couldn't miss the target! I was shooting like I knew what I was doing."

Max regarded him with a small smile. "You know, buddy, I'm beginning to think you just might pull this off."

"And I met somebody else last night too. I met Lieutenant McDeere from Supply. She was in the holodeck working out when we got there. She had a simulation of a Jem'Hadar attack running. She'd killed four of them and was fighting a fifth when we came in. I just can't figure out how somebody who works in supply ever learned to fight like she can. That lady can kick some serious ass. Even the Marines treated her with respect – they knew she could fight too. And she made a funny comment about being a rear echelon weenie; like not being born to it or something. I wonder what that's all about."

"There's more to everyone than is usually apparent, buddy. Lieutenant McDeere is no exception."

"Well, she's going to be working with me for the next couple of weeks until Captain Martin gets his troops integrated into Security and gets settled into his new job. She knows how to shoot _and_ how to fight so I'm going to be learning a lot from her. I just wish I could figure out…" His voice trailed off as he thought a moment.

"Figure out what, Ethan?"

Radcliffe snapped back to the present and looked a Max. "It's just the way she handled herself with Captain Martin. It was like two people who had the same experiences. She seemed a lot like the Marines. Like her under-tunic ought to be command red instead of support gold. Does that make any sense?"

Max thought a moment before replying. "It might. I think I heard something about her background…I just can't remember what. Let me think on it. Maybe it will come to me. But for now, I've got to get back to work. Are you coming in for lunch?"

"Yeah, I'll be here. Things are fairly quiet in the office this week with the Captain and Seven in Indiana."

"When are you leaving for the wedding?"

"Thursday evening. I've got a reservation at the hotel through Sunday morning. Gives me time to recover from the party and get back to Mars before the work week starts."

"Okay then, I'll see you at lunch. Enjoy that omelet."

When Radcliffe got to the office suite it was still dark and secured. He opened the offices and got the morning's coffee started before settling at his desk and checking his overnight COMM logs. He found one from Lieutenant McDeere outlining a schedule for their workouts and asking him to check it over so she could reserve the security holodeck for them. He promptly returned it with his acceptance and turned to the rest of the overnights.

There was a message from Captain Picard in the list and he promptly opened it. On the surface it was a confirmation of hotel reservations for him and Dr. Crusher for the wedding. But when Radcliffe downloaded it to a PADD and did a little decrypting he found a message from Picard to Janeway detailing Picard's unsuccessful efforts to get Admiral Nechayev to accept Seven of Nine on the planning team for their mission. Not that it came as a surprise since Nechayev had been highly suspicious of Seven since Voyager's return, but Picard had a sterling reputation and his opinion usually carried weight even with Starfleet brass.

Radcliffe decided he'd wait a while before trying to contact Captain Janeway. She was on leave for this week and the next and would probably not be keeping military hours. He looked up as Lieutenant Torres walked into the offices.

"Good morning, Radcliffe. How's it going?"

"Just fine, Lieutenant. I'm going through the overnights right now. I've got a couple for you to take care of, but nothing critical. Want some coffee? I've got a fresh pot brewed."

"Kahless that sounds good, Radcliffe. I'd love some. Let me get my mug. Miral was fussing a lot last night. Woke us up twice."

"Did you ever find her little boots to go with her dress uniform?"

"Nope, I'm afraid she's going to have to be slightly out of uniform and go with the black booties," laughed B'Elanna. "Hey, before I forget, did the crew manifest requisitions go in yet?"

"Yes ma'am. Captain Janeway completed them Friday morning and I sent them through that afternoon. You and the others should be hearing from the Bureau of Personnel very shortly. Captain Janeway seemed to think that they would be moving quickly to fill the senior officer positions."

"Thanks, Radcliffe. I'll go check my private COMM logs; maybe my orders are already there." She headed into her office and promptly came back out. "Oh, and if the helm-boy shows up looking for me send him right in, would you?"

Radcliffe laughed at her description. "Yes ma'am, I'll send Lieutenant Paris right in." Both of them went back to work.

* * *

The dimmed desk lamp provided the only illumination in the office. Quietly the officer rose from the desk chair and crossed the room to listen intently at the door for any signs of activity from outside the room. There were none.

Returning to the desk the shadowy form reached out and activated the COMM channel, waiting for the distinguished face to take shape on the desk screen.

"There are a lot of rumors flying around here. Don't you think it's time you told me what's really going on?"

The flag officer on the screen contemplated the shadowed face for a moment. "You're right, it is time I told you everything. It's been need-to-know up until now. But I've put our plan into action and now you do need to know everything."

As concisely as possible the admiral detailed what had transpired in the past week.

"So now you can see the big picture. You've been flying under the radar long enough. It's time for you to do what you've been trained to do. You need to prepare yourself."

"How much time do I have?"

The admiral hesitated a moment. "Not long…a week…two at the outside. There's a definite time constraint here. You'll need to be prepared to move quickly. Remember, this is what we've been working toward all this time."

"I just hope I'm ready."

"I have complete faith in your abilities. But remember, there's a new factor. You need to familiarize yourself with _both_ of them now…she'll have a lot of influence on your principal target. And Voyager's senior staff will be in the area too. You can't let any of them distract you from your objective."

"I understand. I'll be ready when the time comes."

"Remember, even if our plan goes flawlessly you'll only get one shot at this. Make it count."

"I will. I won't let you down." The admiral nodded and terminated the call. The officer glanced toward the door and leaned closer to the desk terminal. Fingers flew over the keys and classified files appeared on the screen. The shadowy form opened the largest of them and the face of Seven of Nine filled the screen.

* * *

By Thursday morning Radcliffe had decided that if he didn't qualify for duty on Captain Janeway's starship that it wouldn't matter because most probably he would be dead anyway. If he had thought that Lieutenant McDeere would be easier on him than the Marines that notion had been quickly disabused. She drilled him on his weapons for an hour first and then worked him for two hours in the basics of hand-to-hand combat. She was trained in the ancient Earth Oriental techniques of karate and tae kwon do and was a formidable opponent. Radcliffe was frustrated in his personal combat training, but Lieutenant McDeere told him not to be, that improvement would come with practice. He believed her, but the bruises were mounting up.

They had agreed to forget about training on Thursday night so that he could travel to Indiana for the wedding. He spent the day tying up as many loose ends as he could think of so that the office being closed the following day wouldn't impact any of the projects that were in the works. After a quick lunch with Max he hustled over to his rooms in the BOQ to retrieve his packed carryall.

The afternoon seemed to fly by and by 1630 hours he'd completed everything on his to-do list. He cleaned out the coffee maker, washed the cups and made sure everything in the office suite was secured. When he was satisfied that nothing was out that shouldn't be he commanded the lights off and locked the suite. Shouldering his carryall he walked quickly to the Transport Center.

The shuttle ride to San Francisco was only a half hour and Radcliffe spent it chatting with another Ensign assigned to the TPG on Mars. The other officer had been a year ahead of Radcliffe at the Academy and they knew each other slightly. They spent the brief ride catching up.

At the Starfleet Transport Center he gave to coordinates for Bloomington, Indiana, stepped on the pad and moments later was rematerializing at the Portage Creek Transport Center in Bloomington. He walked out of the center into a cold wind and snow flurries where Tom Paris was waiting for him with a hovercraft.

"Hey, Radcliffe! You made good time."

"Hi, Tom. For once there weren't any delays either on Mars or in San Francisco. What's with the weather? I thought it wasn't supposed to be winter here for a while yet."

"There's a front headed this way coming down from Canada. Snow's predicted for tomorrow night. Could actually be fairly heavy snow too. Did you bring your galoshes just in case?"

Radcliffe laughed. "Nope, I'll just have to suffer I guess. Anything big planned for tonight?"

"Nope, just a friendly dinner with everybody out at the farm. And all we've got tomorrow is the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner so it's going to be an easy couple of days. I talked to the Captain yesterday and she said she'd had enough cocktail parties to last her a lifetime. I guess the brass threw a big one Tuesday night."

"How's Miral? Lieutenant Torres said she'd been a little fussy lately."

"Looks like she's getting her first tooth. That would be a little early for a human baby, but with a Klingon-human baby they're calling it normal. She was fine last night so maybe she's cut it through and it won't be a problem."

"Let's hope so. It wouldn't be too great if she was crying all through the wedding."

"Not to worry, we're covered with babysitting if need be. Nobody will have to suffer through the ceremony with a screaming infant if she's in a mood."

Tom pulled the hovercar over in front of the hotel and parked.

"Why don't you get registered and we'll meet in the lobby in half an hour to leave for the farm? Oh, I'm supposed to tell you that dress tonight is casual. Jeans are fine if you brought some."

Radcliffe nodded and went into the lobby. He waved to Harry Kim and Karri Jameson who were sitting in the lobby talking and moved to the reception desk. It took only a few moments to get his room codes and he was back downstairs in jeans and a sweater and carrying his parka well before the allotted time. He sat and chatted with Harry and Karri until the rest of the dinner guests had assembled.

Tom, B'Elanna, Harry, Karri and Radcliffe went in one hovercar; Tuvok, his wife T'Pel, the EMH and Admiral Pulaski in another. It only took a bit over fifteen minutes to travel out into the Agricultural Preserve to the Janeway farm.

Kathryn welcomed them into the large farmhouse and pointed everyone toward the living room where drinks were set out. Seven emerged from the kitchen briefly to greet her crewmates and then ducked back in to help Gretchen put the finishing touches on the meal. Phoebe circulated, wine bottle in hand, keeping glasses topped off as Kathryn, Seven and Gretchen brought the food to the table. The dining room table had been extended as far as the leaves would allow to seat everyone and laden platters, steaming bowls and place settings covered every inch. When everyone was seated Phoebe rose to propose a toast.

"I know that over the next two days there will be lots of these so I'll keep this one short. For seven long and frightening years Mom and I hoped and prayed that Kathryn would get her ship and crew home. We worried, as did every family of the crew, that some would not make it back. But when Voyager finally did return home and we met all of you, Mom and I realized that we needn't have worried so much. For while her blood family was back on Earth Kathryn had another family who cared about and for her just as deeply as we did. Tonight, Mom and I welcome that family – all of you, new and old – to our home." Everyone at the table applauded.

When they had drunk their toast Tom stood up and raised his glass. "To Captain Janeway, who never let us lose hope that we would make it home." That toast elicited cheers from the Starfleet officers.

Then Janeway stood, raised her champagne glass and said simply, "To Voyager and all who sailed on her."

At that point Gretchen wiped a stray tear from her eye, stood up and said, "We're delighted you're all here and the food is hot so let's eat!"

Conversation at the table ebbed and flowed as the meal was consumed and it was quite a while before everyone had eaten their fill. Over Gretchen's objections everyone made short work of clearing the table and washing the dishes. When they'd finished pots of coffee and tea were put on and Phoebe lit a fire in the living room fireplace.

Radcliffe had been quiet through most of the meal, fully realizing for the first time how close these people had become on their odyssey through the Delta quadrant. Almost everyone in Starfleet realized that the Voyager crew shared a special bond but Radcliffe doubted that anyone who had never seen them like this – relaxed and enjoying themselves – could truly understand how close they had become. It was not just shared experiences that held them together, but a bond of loyalty that they all embraced.

He felt vaguely disturbed, feeling like an outsider as he listened to them recount stories from their journey. Just as he was about to stand up and excuse himself to get a breath of air he felt a presence behind him.

"Did you enjoy the dinner, Ensign Radcliffe?" asked Seven quietly.

"Very much so, ma'am. I haven't eaten that well since the last leave I spent with my parents."

"I am glad you liked it. The more I learn to cook the more I find I appreciate the enjoyment others take in the meals. You look troubled, Ensign. Is there something I can do for you?"

Ethan looked at the beautiful former drone and decided he could ask no one better about his feelings. "Would you consider stepping out onto the porch to talk?"

"Of course, Ensign. Let's get our coats."

They sat in the swing on the porch and looked out over the lawns. The moon would be full in two nights but scudding clouds heralding the arrival of the Canadian front made changing shadows on the grass.

"What is wrong, Ensign Radcliffe?"

He considered how best to bring up what he wanted to talk about and decided that a direct approach would be best with Seven.

"Ma'am, you know Captain Janeway best. Am I doing an adequate job for her?"

"From what I know, Ensign, you are doing an excellent job for her. She is very pleased with your performance."

"Then why won't she take me with her when you all go off to fight the Borg?" he burst out.

Seven looked confused for a moment. "Why would you think she would not take you with us?"

"Because she told me that she was going to miss me when you all shipped out."

Seven thought a minute before replying. "Ethan," she said gently, "Kathryn is unlike many of her peers in Starfleet. She will not be pleased that I'm telling you this, but she knows the name of every crewman she lost in those seven years and blames herself for their deaths. She has personally contacted the families of each one of them since our return. If she does not take you with us it is because she does not want to have to contact _your_ family and tell them how bravely you died in the line of duty. I believe you have become very special to her and to have to do that would break her heart."

"But I _want_ to go with her…with all of you. You're all willing to face danger with her, why can't I?"

"Have you spoken with her about the way you feel?"

"No, I didn't want to upset her before the wedding."

Seven smiled her small smile. "Thank you for that, Ensign. That would spoil our honeymoon somewhat. But if you truly want to come with us then you must talk to Captain Janeway about it. You are a persuasive young man, I'm sure you can plead your case effectively."

"And if I can't? If she decides that she doesn't want me along?"

"Well, there is always more than one solution to most problems. Entering a house through the back door gets you inside just as effectively as walking through the front. You should think about that. Of course, if Kathryn ever asks you about it we never had this talk."

Ethan grinned. "What talk?"

Seven rose and held out her hand to the young officer. "Shall we rejoin the others?"

Radcliffe took it and stood. "I believe we ought to."

1


	7. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

Kathryn woke slowly to the sound of winter winds swirling snow against the windows. She was surrounded in the warm cocoon of Seven's arms and the thick comforter on the bed. Easing her head back slowly she gazed fondly at her soon-to-be wife.

_I still can't believe my luck. Not only did we get back in only seven years, but I got Seven. I didn't have to settle for less than the brass ring; I'll never live the lonely, bitter life Admiral Janeway did. She's **here** in my arms and tomorrow we're getting married. **Married!** I get to wake up in her arms for the rest of my life. My God, what did I ever do to deserve that? Must have been something good…_

Unbidden, her mind turned to the first time she'd seen Seven; their arrogant liaison with the Borg Collective. Then an image of the frightened isolated 'emerging' human in Voyager's brig; Borg implants being rejected as her organic systems began to reassert themselves. Another of her seizing in Sickbay; the EMH working desperately to save her life. Finally, the cold, impassive Valkyrie in the silver biosuit who had so frightened the crew at first. Enhanced skeleton and near super-human strength, eidetic memory, the data files of the entire Collective in her cortical node; and yet there had always been something. That first night in Cargo Bay two when she'd handed Seven a COMM badge and offered help if contacted. Seven had nodded and abruptly turned away and then, to Janeway's utter astonishment, had replied to a personal question Janeway had posed days earlier.

"Red…the child you spoke of – the girl. Her favorite color was red."

There had always been something. That slight catch of breath she'd feel when she saw Seven unexpectedly. The feeling of pride that warmed her when Seven triumphed over a stumbling block in her journey back to humanity and the cold rage that drove her when someone was intentionally cruel to the young woman. The unwavering determination to help Seven become fully human; to help her recover what the Borg had stolen from her. The feeling of security in a battle knowing Seven was at the station behind her command chair, the cool voice sounding almost detached as it fed her critical tactical data and analysis. Knowing that as long as Seven was with them Voyager had a fighting chance against the Delta quadrant.

And how many times had Seven almost been lost to them? Even now her stomach clenched as the memories came: Seven, standing isolated and alone in the corridor of a Borg sphere watching with longing in her eyes as Janeway made good her escape, leaving her to be reassimilated. Seven, strapped down to the biobed in **Equinox's** Sickbay as the EMH with all ethical protocols erased removed her cortical node. Seven, sobbing and curled into the fetal position as a Borg vinculum caused her cortical node to malfunction and multiple personalities to erupt in the normally unflappable former drone. Seven, weakened and unsteady as her cortical node failed, but determined to die with dignity and refusing the increasingly desperate solutions offered by Voyager's crew including the murder of a living drone to procure the needed cortical node. Seven, confused by a data overload in her alcove, seeing paranoid conspiracies everywhere and fleeing Voyager in the Delta Flyer determined to end her life. Seven, battered and bleeding; fighting to the death in the Tsunkatse arena against a Hirogen to save Tuvok's life. And finally, the terrifying memory of Seven, drugged and tortured, being dissected alive as Section 31 operatives tried to harvest her Borg implants.

Janeway reflected on the terror she'd felt every time Seven was in danger and the overwhelming relief when she had been rescued and brought back to Voyager. _Back to __**me**__. How could I have been so blind? How could I have deluded myself for so long? Thank God for Admiral Janeway. If she hadn't knocked some sense into me I'd still be denying my feelings instead of lying here next to this amazing woman._

Yes, there had always been something. Janeway's heart had known even if her head had denied it for all those years. The feeling of unutterable rightness as she'd blurted out her proposal of marriage and the way her heart leapt at the incandescent smile on Seven's face as she'd accepted. The feeling of completeness in her heart for the first time in her life. Oh yes, there had always been something. Janeway's eyes filled with tears as she regarded her soon-to-be wife tenderly.

Seven, as if sensing she was being watched stirred and blinked her eyes open. As they focused on Janeway a slow smile began to spread across her face.

"Good morning, my Kathryn. Did you sleep well?" she murmured.

Janeway propped herself up on one elbow and gazed down at the gorgeous blonde snuggled against her. She leaned down and pressed a quick kiss on Seven's lips. "I always sleep well when I sleep with you. It's a shame I was so stubborn on Voyager; if we'd been living together back in the Delta quadrant we'd have been so well-rested we'd probably have figured out a way to be home years earlier." Idly she trailed a hand slowly down Seven's side, fingertips delighting in the feel of abdominal implant mesh joined seamlessly to the soft flesh of her lover's flank. Blue eyes darkened with desire as the hand began its return journey, gently cupping a full breast and brushing across the hardening nipple.

Seven gasped as Janeway pressed butterfly-soft kisses along her jaw line and teased the starburst implant below her right ear with the tip of her tongue. "Kathryn...!"

Janeway's chuckle came out as a deep vibration against Seven's skin as the smaller woman kissed her way down the alabaster column of throat and across Seven's shoulder. Without hesitation she took a pebbled nipple between her lips and began to suck gently, her tongue stroking with increasing firmness as Seven moaned and clutched her head against her. Without haste, and seemingly ignoring the increasing urgency of her partner's moans and the writhing of her hips, Kathryn lavished attention on each breast as her hand once again ventured slowly south. When her fingers tangled in the crisp curls at the juncture of Seven's legs she felt the heat and readiness of her partner and wasted no time slipping her fingers into that velvety sheath. Seven's response was immediate, gasping and thrusting against the fingers that stroked her.

Janeway could feel the rapidly building tension in Seven's body and knew that she was close. Concentrating on her partner's responses, Janeway smoothly brought her lover to the edge and over, holding Seven as the spasms of her orgasm washed through her and gently kissing her as her gasping subsided into regular breathing again. Seven shivered as Janeway's hand returned to stroke over an inflamed nipple and then down her arm to clasp her hand. The kisses that followed were gentle and sweet.

"How did I ever think I could live without you?" mused Janeway. "I should have blown Chakotay out an airlock when I found out about you two."

Seven chuckled softly. "I should have had more courage and pursued _you_, Kathryn. You were the one I really wanted."

"Mmm, love…I don't want to think about what we should have done. We're together now and tomorrow we'll be married and that'll be that. Are you nervous about the wedding?"

"No, I am apprehensive, but not overly nervous. Of course, as the time nears for the ceremony to begin my apprehension may grow until I reach fully panicked, but I am hopeful that will not happen. When I feel it increasing I remind myself that I am marrying _you_ and the thought calms me."

Janeway gazed into the impossibly blue eyes next to her and grinned. "That is a marvelous thought, isn't it? So tell me, my love, how do you feel about a long, leisurely, steamy shower before we have brunch with everyone?"

Seven rolled them over until she lay partially atop Janeway. Her human hand swept across Kathryn's chest until it captured a small, firm breast. "I have a better idea for the immediate future," she said lowering her lips to Kathryn's.

Janeway didn't argue. It really _was_ a better idea.

* * *

"…and just as he leaned in to kiss Maggie, I transmitted the matrix alterations and she turned into a cow! You should have seen Harry's face!" Newly minted Lieutenant Kim blushed furiously at the howling laughter that ensued from Tom's story.

"Yeah, and look how that turned out. We were the only ship in Starfleet whose holodeck characters ever staged an uprising," he retorted. Now it was Tom's turn to flush at the laughter.

The wedding party and a few guests were having brunch in a private dining room of the hotel. As the friends relaxed over coffee after eating, the conversation naturally moved to their time on Voyager. Family members and those who had not been with them in the Delta quadrant listened and once again marveled at the bonds that had formed among Voyager's crew.

"You know, somehow I keep waiting for Neelix to show up," commented Tom, "He would have been in his glory organizing this wedding." Glancing at Gretchen he added hastily, "Assisting you, of course, Mrs. Janeway."

"Of course, Tom," laughed Gretchen. "Neelix was your cook and morale officer wasn't he? A Delta quadrant native?"

"A Talaxian from Rinax, yes. Neelix and Kes were the first of our Voyager Irregulars," said Janeway. "After we got B'Elanna and Harry back off the Ocampan home world they came into my ready room and informed me that we needed them. And he was right. Of all the things that Neelix did for us, there was nothing he enjoyed more than throwing a party. He came up with the most unbelievable excuses to have them."

"Mr. Neelix was most adept at inventing holidays to celebrate," said Tuvok implacably.

That provoked another round of laughter as well as more Neelix stories. Radcliffe felt a small pang in his chest as he regarded the Voyager officers, wondering idly if he would ever feel that kind of bond with crewmates. As he shifted in his seat he felt a twinge from his last workout. He was slowly improving his marksmanship skills and Lieutenant McDeere was teaching him katas as quickly as he could learn them. He still felt awkward and clumsy when he performed them but Lieutenant McDeere assured him that was normal and that he was making good progress. His determination to win a berth on Janeway's new command was stronger than ever, even more so as he observed the camaraderie of her Voyager officers. Knowing each of them had agreed to join the captain in her campaign against the Borg without hesitation merely stiffened his resolve to become a member of that select group.

The rehearsal went smoothly that evening with general merriment accompanying the revelation of Miral's and Ethan's roles in the ceremony. Janeway laughed so hard at the sight of her aide carrying a squirming toddler down the aisle that she had to sit down to catch her breath. Miral, for her part, was more interested in grabbing hold of Radcliffe's nose than she was in her role as flower girl and kept the young ensign busy trying to keep tiny fingers out of his eyes. The arrival of Captain Martin and a contingent of Fleet Marines didn't even cause a ripple in the festivities. The rehearsal dinner was equally light-hearted with several hilarious toasts and even more humorous tales from the Delta quadrant being recounted. After the rehearsal dinner close friends and family moved to a suite in the hotel for one last evening of reminiscing. Even that was low-key, with Janeway and Seven retiring for the night at a surprisingly early hour.

As Phoebe and Gretchen were preparing to retire in their rooms Phoebe commented that Kathryn had seemed more relaxed that she had expected.

"It hasn't sunk in yet. She's just like your father; he was fine the day before but by the time of the ceremony he was shaking so badly we weren't sure if he could make it down the aisle. If it weren't for Owen and Rob Patterson I think he would have fainted dead away before I got to the altar to hold him up. Just wait." Gretchen burst into laughter at the stunned expression on her younger daughter's face.

* * *

The morning of the wedding dawned clear and cold, the sun blinding on the blanket of fresh snow covering everything. Gretchen and Phoebe joined Kathryn, Seven and Seven's Aunt Claudia for breakfast in the suite before leaving to check on final preparations at the church and ballroom. Martin and Radcliffe arrived midmorning to transfer the luggage to St. Lucia. Martin kept his involvement very low-key, but his real purpose was to insure that his security team was in place on the island and ready to take up their protective duties that night. They would be walking a fine line between respecting Janeway and Seven's privacy and maintaining the watchfulness necessary to protect the women, but Martin was confident that the senior men he'd selected for the duty were up to the task. He had been mildly surprised but pleased when Radcliffe had offered to accompany him. It was a good opportunity to instruct the young officer in some of the varied considerations of a security assignment.

Claudia Hansen did her level best to keep the tension levels low in the suite. Janeway was beginning to show some nerves and Seven was sounding more like the drone that she'd once been, a sure sign of tension. By the time Gretchen and Phoebe got back Janeway was buffing the shine on her boots for the third time and her hands were shaking noticeably.

Gretchen looked at her youngest daughter with a twinkle in her eyes. "Just like your father."

B'Elanna arrived shortly thereafter to help Seven dress for the wedding and Gretchen pointed Janeway toward a bedroom at one side of the suite while Phoebe and Torres ushered Seven toward the bedroom opposite. Before she turned away Seven smiled at Janeway and said quietly, "I will see you at the altar, Kathryn."

"Altar, yes, at the…the altar," stammered Janeway. Gretchen shook her head with a smile. _Just like her father_. Gretchen was hard-pressed to nudge Kathryn into the rooms set up for her to dress in. Gretchen took the boots away from Janeway lest they be polished yet again and pointed her toward the shower.

"Shower. Now. Long and hot. Scrub until you're pink." Kathryn's wry grin acknowledged the whip of command in Gretchen's voice as she headed for the bathroom. Gretchen turned and began a minute examination of Kathryn's dress whites. It didn't take long for her to pull out an ionizer to remove the stray lint. As she flipped the switch to activate the unit a bittersweet smile touched her lips. _How many times did I do this for Edward? I never realized that I missed fussing over a uniform until just now. The replicator leaves a uniform with a slight negative charge that attracts lint like a magnet. He never knew. Apparently, neither does Kathryn._ Her chuckle was deep and throaty. _Just like her father. I'll have to remember to tell Seven about this. She'll have to check the uniforms from now on._

Kathryn emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, pink as instructed, wrapped in a billow of steam and a terry cloth robe. As soon as she sat down Gretchen pressed a cup of coffee into her hand, sat down opposite her and began to talk about when Kathryn was young. She didn't have any particular reason for the subject, but one quick look at the rapidity with which Kathryn's scrubbed pink face was turning white convinced her that some topic was required to keep Kathryn's nerves calmed. Kathryn's early years and her father would usually do the trick. Today, for some reason Gretchen couldn't quite fathom, it didn't.

"Sweetheart, you look troubled. Is there something the matter that I don't know about?"

"No, Mom. I was just thinking about Daddy and what it would be like to have him here today."

"I'd have to keep him isolated and Kate Pulaski nearby to dope him up."

Janeway looked up in shock. "Why?"

"Because he would be so nervous he'd send _you_ over the edge too. He was shaking so hard at our wedding that he had to be medicated and Owen Paris and Rob Patterson had to hold him up until I walked down the aisle and could keep him upright through the ceremony. He was a basket case. Now what's bothering you?"

"I…there was…I was wondering how Daddy would have reacted in a situation, that's all. Somehow I don't think he would have done the same things I did."

"What situation, darling?"

"Mom, I…," Janeway took a deep breath and began again. "When Seven was kidnapped by Section 31 and we rescued her I did something. Something I'm ashamed of that probably would have made Daddy ashamed of me."

"Why don't you tell me about it? I think I can pretty much tell how your father would have felt. Perhaps better than you can."

"I'll try to explain what happened. After we located her we beamed down to the surface and captured all the guards. Tuvok, Ayala and I went into the operating room. The guys took out the guards and I charged the operating table and forced the surgeons to stand away. Everything was fine…and then I heard her…"

"You _heard_ her? What do you mean?" Gretchen's voice was a shocked whisper.

"When we broke in one of them had carved out her ocular implant; there was this bloody crater in the side of her face. He was cutting through her skull to try and take out her ocular implant. The other one was cutting her abdominal implant away from her flesh. When we broke in I saw what they were doing but I was in control. I ordered them to stand away from the table. I was fine. And then I heard her…she…whimpered. I'd never heard Seven make any sound like that before. It cut through me like a laser blast. I looked over at the table and she was _crying_ out of the eye they'd left her. She was awake. They hadn't bothered to anesthetize her while they cut her implants out…and I…something inside me snapped. I…I…killed both of them. I blew their chests apart with a disruptor rifle."

"And you think your father would have been ashamed of you for that?"

Janeway looked at her mother bleakly. "Yeah, I do."

"Then you don't know your father very well. Edward would have killed anyone…_anyone_ who threatened you girls or me and he would have done it without a second thought. If your father had walked into that operating room and seen me strapped down on that table and those butchers cutting on me without anesthesia he wouldn't have used a disruptor rifle. He'd have snapped their necks with his bare hands. Ashamed of you? Your father would have been ashamed if you'd _balked at _killing them. You were protecting the woman you loved. He would have done exactly the same thing. This is what's upsetting you?"

"Yeah, it was. I just can't help but think that he'd have come up with another way of dealing with…"

"Kathryn, he would have killed them without hesitation. Kate Pulaski was there, wasn't she? What did she say?"

"She thanked me for saving her the trouble of killing them herself."

"And weren't you debriefed by Starfleet?"

"Yes, Admirals Patterson and Paris debriefed me."

"And what did Owen and Rob say?"

"They said it was understandable. That anybody would have done the same thing,"

"Okay, let's tally this up. Owen and Rob said it was understandable, Kate was willing to kill them too and thanked you for saving her the trouble and I just told you that your father would have used his hands to tear them apart. What parts of that aren't getting through to you? You did nothing wrong, Kathryn. The only person who doesn't see that is apparently _you_."

Janeway looked up and a small smile began to appear on her face. "His bare hands?"

"His bare hands. So why don't you go a little easier on yourself for once? You're getting married to the most wonderful woman in the universe tonight. This isn't a time to be berating yourself for saving her. This is a time to congratulate yourself on saving her and having the good sense to marry her after you did." _Just like her father. Never content to just enjoy what was happening. Always had to analyze it._

Janeway's smile was full and genuine. "You're right. Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, darling. Now shouldn't you start getting dressed?" Janeway's face went from nervous and pale to terrified and green. She stood abruptly and bolted for the bathroom. Gretchen pressed a cool washcloth on the back of her neck as her daughter upchucked everything she'd eaten for the past three days into the bowl. _Yes, indeed. Just like her father._

* * *

Seven of Nine had managed to avoid the worst of the anxiety everyone around her seemed to be suffering from by leaving her dressing room for a while to watch the Marines rehearse the arch of swords under which she and Kathryn would leave the church. When Seven realized that Captain Martin had a detachment of Marines with him she guessed what they were planning. She had discovered the ancient rite during her research on marriage customs shortly after Kathryn proposed. Watching the precision with which the Marines carried out the ritual soothed her. She wasn't terribly nervous but she had seen that Kathryn was. She had felt some anxiety about marrying Kathryn in front of so many people, but Phoebe had explained the tradition of the 'community' wedding and Seven had resigned herself to being watched by a church full of people as she wed Kathryn. But she really wasn't nervous about vowing her love to Kathryn; that was the one thing of which she was entirely certain. As to the rest, she would adapt.

When she returned to her dressing area after watching the Marines for several minutes she discovered Phoebe and B'Elanna shouting at each other and the EMH and her Aunt Claudia trying vainly to calm them down. Seven stepped in and quietly reminded the combatants that _she_ was the one getting married that evening and that they should remember that. After getting both women to opposite corners of the suite Seven took a short hydro shower and a full power sonic one. Feeling as clean as was possible she carefully dressed in the delicate silken under clothes Phoebe had insisted she buy and pulled on her stockings, shoes and garters. Returning to the bedroom she faced the ongoing battle about makeup and hair. B'Elanna and Phoebe had vastly different ideas on both subjects and the EMH wasn't helping. She instructed the women on what she wanted and after much complaining and some not-terribly-veiled threats she looked in the mirror and was pleased with what she saw. Once she declared hair and makeup acceptable B'Elanna and Phoebe helped her into her dress.

"Seven, I hope they'll have oxygen up at the altar because when the captain sees you in this dress she's going to fall over in a dead faint. Woman, you look amazing."

"Hmmm, Katie keeling over at the altar. I'd pay cash money to see that," laughed Phoebe.

'Well, if she does, there will at least be a couple of physicians on hand to tend to her," commented the EMH, fussing with the train of the dress. "Are you both ready to go? You know I want plenty of time to take holoimages before the ceremony."

Phoebe and B'Elanna quickly finished their preparations and began to gather up everything that needed to go over to the church with Seven. Just as they finished Gretchen entered the room, dressed for the ceremony.

"All set, everyone? Tuvok just arrived and will sit with Kathryn until they hear Seven's safely over at the church. Are we ready to go?"

"All except for Aunt Claudia's wedding present, Mom." Phoebe opened a closet door and took out a heavy garment bag. Opening it she drew out a midnight blue velvet cloak and draped it over Seven's shoulders. Moving around the taller woman, she fastened the cloak at Seven's throat. "There you go, sis. A little something to keep you warm on the walk over to the church. Your aunt has exquisite taste."

All B'Elanna could do was stare. "Damn, Seven! You're stunning!"

"All right everyone, lets get moving. The sooner we settle in the bride's room at the church the sooner Kathryn can come over and the easier it will be for Tuvok to keep her calm. Doctor, have you got the overskirt and train?"

"We're all ready, Mrs. Janeway. Let's go." The EMH swept out of the room holding the overskirt and train to Seven's dress well off the floor. B'Elanna followed him and as Phoebe started to leave Seven grasped her arm to stay her.

"I want to thank both of you again for all you have done for me. And thank you Aunt Claudia for being here and for this beautiful cloak."

The four women hugged briefly then headed out of the suite and to the church.

* * *

Once B'Elanna confirmed that Seven and her entourage had made it safely to the church Janeway and Tuvok headed over. Kathryn thought all the traditional superstitions about not seeing the bride the day of the wedding were nonsense, but Phoebe, Gretchen and Claudia Hansen were adamant; Kathryn would not see Seven in her wedding dress until she walked down the aisle. To her amusement even B'Elanna sided against her and threatened to lock her in the church basement if she tried to get near the bride's room before the ceremony.

The air was crisp and cold with a huge hunter's moon rising low in the eastern sky. The blanket of new snow glittered in the rising moonlight and reflected the lights of the square and the church. Inside, the sanctuary had been decorated with ropes of winter greens, baskets of white flowers and hundreds of white candles in hurricane chimneys. The fresh scent of balsam permeated the air and the overall effect was breathtaking. Kathryn could only stand in awe breathing in the clean scent and basking in the soft light.

White lilies, hydrangeas and roses lined the aisle with white candles in crystal chimneys. Sprays of the same white flowers banked the altar area and filled the sanctuary; silver and white satin ribbons woven through the flowers and greens glittering. Single, artfully placed pots of bright red amaryllis served as splashes of color in the elegant scene and soft music completed the ambiance. Gretchen and Phoebe had created an unforgettable setting in which to hold the wedding. Even the normally impassive Vulcan raised an eyebrow and commented "Impressive." Struck mute at the beauty before her, Janeway could only nod in agreement.

She glanced behind her at the sound of the church doors opening and watched dumbstruck as Captain Martin and nine Fleet Marines, all in formal Mess Dress uniforms and wearing the honored Mameluke swords of the Corps, entered the sanctuary with Ensign Radcliffe bringing up the rear in his dress whites. The Marines quickly divested themselves of those ceremonial side arms and snapped to attention.

"Captain Martin, Marine Ceremonial Detachment and a stray supernumerary officer reporting for duty, ma'am!"

Janeway broke into laughter. "As you were, ladies and gentlemen. 'Duty', Captain Martin?"

"Yes ma'am, Captain. We will provide the ceremonial arch of swords for you and your spouse at the end of the ceremony. Compliments of Admirals Patterson and Paris. We're not at all sure what Radcliffe's doing, but he looked lonely so we brought him along."

"The 'arch of swords', Captain? Is this some archaic part of the ceremony I'm not familiar with?"

"It is certainly a part of any military wedding, Captain. And I believe your spouse will be able to brief you on all the protocols involved. When she realized I had come to the wedding with a detachment she guessed our purpose immediately. In fact, she insisted we rehearse in her presence earlier this afternoon. I assure you, Seven of Nine is quite familiar with the protocol. She'll get you through it just fine."

Janeway laughed again. "Of that, I have no doubt. Why did you take off your swords?"

"We will not bear arms in a church, Captain. We'll be serving as ushers until the ceremony starts. Once we've seated the last guests, we'll put our swords on again and step out of the sanctuary where we will remain in formation until the conclusion of the wedding. We'll provide the arch for you and Seven and remove our swords again only when _that_ ceremony is completed."

"I see, Captain. And I presume that the Admirals wanted this ceremony to be a surprise for me?"

"They did, Captain. I trust we managed to do so."

"Indeed, Captain. So how soon will you all need to assume your usher duties?"

Martin glanced at his wrist chronometer. "Fairly quickly, Captain. Which means we need to get you secluded away before any guests start showing up. We have one small ritual to complete before we can begin our duties." He indicated the way to the traditional 'grooms' room' at one side of the sanctuary and the group hastened into it.

Once inside Martin snapped to attention and barked, "Gunnery Sergeants Mulcahey and Froelich, do your duty."

The gunnys chorused "Aye, aye sir!" and produced a small tray with ounce-sized plasticine cups and a flask of suspiciously blue liquid.

"Captain Martin, is that by any chance Romulan ale?"

"Why yes, Commander Tuvok, it is."

"No doubt you are aware that Romulan ale is _illegal_, Captain Martin."

"Indeed I am, Commander Tuvok."

"Well done, Captain Martin. Carry on."

"Thank you, Commander Tuvok." The gunnys poured shots of the potent liquor and everyone took a cup.

Martin raised his glass and offered the toast. "To Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine. May 'for better or worse' be far better than worse. Fair winds and safe harbors to you both, Captain."

"Hear, hear!" chorused the group and tossed back their drinks. Kathryn was fine until the ale hit her stomach with roughly the same impact as a tricobalt device. At that point she wasn't entirely sure that the top of her head wasn't about to blow off. The Marines and a slightly green Radcliffe took their leave and Tuvok waited until the door closed behind them before he gently thumped Kathryn on the back to help her breathe again.

"Thank you, old friend," wheezed Janeway. "I'm especially glad you waited to resuscitate me until after the Marines left. Don't want it to look like Starfleet can't hold its liquor."

The two friends talked quietly until there was a sharp knock on the door. Janeway paled and leapt to her feet.

"Captain, you must try to relax. It is a wedding, not a Hirogen armada," Tuvok commented as the door opened revealing Admiral Pulaski carrying a small medkit.

"Kathryn, Tuvok," she nodded to the room's occupants. "I've been dispatched by your mother to insure you make it to the altar in a functional state. I'm packing anti-hangover meds, anti-nausea meds, anti-diarrhea meds, tranquilizers, stimulants and some Iconian whisky I had smuggled across the neutral zone to DS9. Which do you need?"

"I believe your company for a few minutes will suffice, Doctor," said the Vulcan mildly as Janeway collapsed back into her chair. "We have already shared a flask of Romulan ale with the Marine contingent."

"Damn, I'm sorry I missed that." Suddenly Pulaski brightened noticeably. "Do you think they have any left?" Janeway managed a weak laugh at the thought of the Marines and Admiral Pulaski in the foyer slugging back Romulan ale from a hidden flask.

"Is Seven okay?"

Pulaski chuckled. "She's nervous, but she's in better shape than you are, Kathryn. For the love of God, _breathe_. Your mother's right, you _are_ just like your Dad. He was a basket case at their wedding too. I had to shoot him full of tranks to get him to the altar. Good thing Owen and Rob were there to keep him upright." She looked down at her wrist chronometer and rose to her feet. "Well, it won't be long now. Last chance to get medicated. No? Okay then, I'll see you in church…in about three minutes." The statuesque officer left them and returned to her seat in the sanctuary.

Janeway maintained a tenuous hold on her nerves for another minute until her mother and sister entered the room and looked at her expectantly. Then her knees started to shake in earnest. Tuvok cocked his head slightly at the opening notes of Pachelbel's _Canon in D_ and addressed his commanding officer gravely.

"Kathryn, I believe they are playing our song." The four of them left the room and took their places at the rear of the church. Tuvok nodded briefly and began his march down the aisle toward the waiting Justice of the Peace.

"There's still time to run, Kathryn," whispered Phoebe with a devilish glint in her eye watching Janeway grow paler by the moment. Gretchen smiled as she took Kathryn's hand and squeezed it supportively. The three Janeway women held hands and started down the aisle as the familiar music washed over the congregation. At the front pew Kathryn kissed her mother and sister and climbed the broad altar steps to stand next to Tuvok.

They looked back over the packed church to watch the newest members of Voyager's family come down the aisle together. A murmur of quiet laughter followed Radcliffe and Miral through the congregation as people noticed their matching dress uniforms. B'Elanna followed close behind and took her place opposite Tuvok.

The Canon in D faded out to be replaced with the opening notes of the timeless Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin by Wagner. The congregation rose and faced the aisle as the back doors of the church were opened by two of the Marines. All traces of nervousness fell away as Janeway stood transfixed by the vision that was Seven of Nine. Her spine straightened, her shoulders squared and her lips curled into a soft smile as the most beautiful woman in the cosmos came toward her on the arm of Voyager's EMH.

The dress was a strapless sheath, closely fitted to mid-thigh where it flared around her feet. Ordinarily that would make it difficult to walk or dance, but was saved from it by means of a pair of long slits up the sides. For the ceremony, an overskirt of matching satin and lace with a six-foot train covered the slits and gave the traditional look of a bridal gown. Seven carried a cascade of white roses and calla lilies on winter greens, the fall of flowers punctuated by three blood red roses.

Around her neck was Gretchen's contribution to the traditional 'something old, new, borrowed and blue'. It constituted the 'old' fraction of that equation; an exquisite diamond choker with a single large teardrop diamond hanging from the center. The 'borrowed' fraction was a diamond tennis bracelet from Phoebe. The 'new' fraction was a pair of tango shoes Phoebe had made for her in Buenos Aires. They had then been shipped to Paris to be covered in the same fabric as the dress. And the final fraction, 'blue', was a pair of garters that exactly matched the color of her eyes. But the radiant smile on her face as she looked at Janeway waiting for her at the altar eclipsed everything else.

As Seven and the EMH reached the bottom step of the altar Kathryn reached out and took Seven's hand. Together they ascended the broad steps to the altar to stand in front of the Justice of the Peace who wore a traditional black robe and beamed at the women standing before her as she began the service.

"Good evening, and welcome to the ceremony that will unite Kathryn and Seven in marriage. We gather here today to celebrate their union, and to honor their commitment to not just gazing at one another, but to looking outward together in the same direction. Today they proclaim their love to the world, and we rejoice with and for them."

"In marriage, we give ourselves freely and generously into the hands of the one we love, and in doing so, each of us receives the love and trust of the other as our most precious gift. But even as that gift is shared by two people who are in love, it also touches the friends and family members who in various ways support and contribute to the relationship. All of you are Seven and Kathryn's community, and each of you has played some part in bringing them to this moment. This is why gathering as a community is such an important part of a wedding ceremony. Because Seven and Kathryn are now taking a new form as a married couple, and in this form, they become part of their community in a new way."

"Kathryn and Seven, we are here to remember and rejoice with you and to recount with one another that it is love that guides us on our path, and to celebrate as you begin this journey together. It is in this spirit that you have come here to today to exchange these vows."

"Kathryn, repeat after me:

I Kathryn take you Seven to be my wife /  
I promise above all else to live in truth with you/  
and to communicate fully and fearlessly/  
I give you my hand and my heart /  
as a sanctuary of warmth and peace/  
and pledge my love, devotion, faith and honor  
as I join my life to yours."

In a firm voice Janeway repeated the vows. When she had finished the Justice turned to Seven and said,

"Seven, repeat after me:

I Seven take you Kathryn to be my wife /  
I promise above all else to live in truth with you/  
and to communicate fully and fearlessly/  
I give you my hand and my heart /  
as a sanctuary of warmth and peace/  
and pledge my love, devotion, faith and honor  
as I join my life to yours."

Seven's voice was steady and clear as she repeated her vows. The Justice continued,

"For thousands of years lovers have exchanged rings as a token of their vows.  
These simple bands are not of great value in themselves, but are made precious by our wearing of them. Your rings say that even in your uniqueness you have chosen to be bound together. Let these rings also be a sign that love has substance as well as soul, a present as well as a past, and that, despite its occasional sorrows,  
love is a circle of happiness, wonder, and delight."

"Seven, take Kathryn's ring and put it on her finger, and make your pledge to her."

Radcliffe had handed Miral to B'Elanna as Seven and Janeway climbed the altar steps. He now stepped forward and placed the ring in Seven's hand. She turned to Janeway. slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand and gazed into the eyes that she loved saying, "All that I am, all that I will become, I pledge to you for better or worse, in sickness and health, in good times and bad, unto death and beyond."

"Kathryn, take Seven's ring and put it on her finger, and make your pledge to her."

Radcliffe again stepped forward and placed the ring in Janeway's hand. She, in her turn, slipped it on Seven's hand and pledged with a steady voice and unwavering gaze, "All that I am, all that I will become, I pledge to you for better or worse, in sickness and health, in good times and bad, unto death and beyond."

The Justice concluded the ceremony with, "Seven and Kathryn, although I'm officiating here today, it is not truly in my power to sanctify or bless your relationship in any way, because the two of you have already done that in your hearts. So, by joining hands right now and looking into each other's eyes, let it be known that you are joined, body and soul in this lifetime, and that this bond is sacred and eternal. And now that you have stood before me and exchanged these rings and these vows, and have agreed to be wed according to the laws of Earth, it gives me great pleasure to pronounce you joined in marriage. You may now seal your commitment with a kiss." She beamed down at the two women who couldn't take their eyes off each other.

Kathryn and Seven had discussed how they should kiss at the conclusion of the ceremony but Janeway promptly forgot everything they had talked about. She reached up and took Seven's face in her hands and brought their lips together. Blood turned molten as the kiss deepened and each drank deeply of the other, neither of them wanting to sever the connection. Finally, the applause, cheering and whistles from the congregation penetrated their haze of passion and the women broke the kiss. They turned to face the congregation only to discover that everyone was on their feet cheering. Kathryn flushed and grinned sheepishly while Seven's smile was incandescent. Still holding hands, they stepped down from the altar to the opening strains of Mendelssohn's Wedding March from Midsummer Night's Dream.

They paused at the front pews and exchanged hugs and kisses with Seven's Aunt Claudia, Gretchen and Phoebe. Then, still holding hands and smiling radiantly, they swept down the aisle and into the vestibule of the church followed by the rest of the wedding party.


	8. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

No sooner had they arrived in the foyer of the church than the EMH began pestering everyone to go up to what had at one time been a choir loft. It was now an area used for formal wedding holoimages to be taken. Kathryn held Seven's hand as she climbed the stairs and once they were posed Phoebe, Gretchen and Aunt Claudia arranged Seven's train for the formal portraits. Janeway was sure that they would be up there for hours, but after a surprisingly few minutes the photographer and the EMH declared that they had enough shots of the happy newlyweds and the entire wedding party. Both of them hustled outside to set up for shots of Kathryn and Seven descending the church steps under the arch of swords.

The main players, meanwhile, went back down into the brides' room and eased the train and overskirt off Seven's dress. Once everything had been bagged up and arrangements made to have it sent back to the hotel suite, Janeway draped the cloak around Seven and they headed out into the vestibule as the rest of the wedding party left the church.

The wedding guests had exited the church and were milling around on the square outside waiting for Janeway and Seven to lead the way to the reception. On the church steps the Marine Ceremonial Detachment was standing at attention. Five pairs of Marines faced each other on the steps awaiting the bridal couple. When Kathryn and Seven appeared in the church doors Martin called out "Draw…Sword!" Ten Mameluke swords flashed from their scabbards in unison, were drawn to a salute position and then tips crossed overhead. The maneuver was performed flawlessly and the metallic note when the tips crossed was sharp and crisp. The guests began to cheer and Janeway and Seven descended the church steps under their ceremonial arch and into a shower of birdseed. Janeway wasn't quite sure she understood the necessity for a fertility symbol at their wedding, but Seven had claimed it was tradition and so she went along with it.

As they crossed the square toward the hotel Martin commanded, "Return…Sword!" and the Marines collapsed the arch, saluted with their swords and returned them to their scabbards like a well-choreographed ballet. Martin commanded a center face and the Marines marched off the church steps and onto the square before being dismissed. Their impressive display had not gone unnoticed by most of the crowd; Phoebe, Gretchen and Claudia Hansen included.

"Close your mouth, dear, or you'll drool on your dress," commented Gretchen.

"They're _very_ impressive, Mom."

Grinning slyly Gretchen replied, "Impressive? They look good enough to eat!"

"Mom!" Phoebe's jaw dropped in shock, the flash of a nearby holo-imager ignored.

"Just because I spent the bulk of my adult life married to a Starfleet officer doesn't mean I can't appreciate the scenery when the Marines hit the beach."

Claudia laughed heartily at both Gretchen's comment and the scandalized look on her younger daughter's face. "Come along, ladies, or we'll miss the reception!" Gretchen hooked her arm through Claudia's and pulled her stunned daughter along in their wake.

Back at the hotel, the main ballroom was ablaze in light and the same varieties of flowers and winter greens as the church. Phoebe had been allowed more latitude here and pools of bright crimson flowers punctuated the silver and white and green. Janeway and Seven received their guests just inside the double doors with Gretchen, Phoebe and Claudia standing next to them. Even with the large number of people attending the reception it didn't take long for everyone to make their way into the room and begin celebrating.

Kathryn and Seven took their places at the head table and for the first time in what seemed like hours got to relax and enjoy the scene before them. Janeway had made sure that the flute in front of Seven would be full of champagne only once. When they'd finished the toasts a bottle of sparkling cider was there for both of them for the remainder of the evening.

"Sweetheart, look at Admiral Paris!" Janeway whispered to Seven. "I think he's been in the champagne already." The Admiral was waltzing around the room carrying his granddaughter Miral and posing for holoimages in their matching dress whites. Waiters moved smoothly through the room serving dinner and keeping glasses filled. It wasn't long after they'd finished eating that Tuvok stood amid the rising sound of cutlery clinking on glassware.

"If I may, I rise to offer a toast to the brides. May this day be the beginning of a new chapter in the love story that began before either of them realized it, that will endure forever and that will bring them both great joy and happiness. May they always remember the vows they have made today and let them be the unshakable foundation on which their life together is built. I give you Seven and Kathryn!"

Everyone in the room raised their flutes and toasted the newlyweds. After sips of champagne Kathryn leaned in and brushed a soft kiss on Seven's lips. "It's tradition, darling," she murmured.

"I am in favor of tradition, Kathryn," whispered Seven in reply as she grasped Janeway's tunic and drew her into a much lengthier kiss to the cheers of Voyager's crew. The reception got considerably livelier from that point, the merriment subsiding only briefly when Janeway and Seven cut the cake.

When everyone had finished their cake and Janeway was sipping a much-needed cup of coffee, B'Elanna approached them and informed them it was time for the audience participation portion of the evening. Seven and Janeway were escorted to one side of the large dance floor while a boisterous crowd gathered on the other. As Seven moved into position B'Elanna gave the 'go' signal to implement the plan she and the new bride had worked out earlier.

Karri Jameson and Susan Nicoletti slipped into positions flanking Phoebe. As Seven raised her bouquet and prepared to toss it over her shoulder, B'Elanna fed her the necessary trajectory data. As the bouquet flew in a perfect arc toward its intended target, Jameson and Nicoletti used elbows, feet and judiciously thrown hips to keep other interested parties away from Phoebe. As she caught the flowers she glanced around and realized that the bouquet toss had been thoroughly rigged. Her victorious grin dissolved into a glare at her older sister and new sister-in-law as the crowd whooped with delight.

Gretchen, Claudia Hansen, Kate Pulaski and Siobhan Paris were seated at a table sipping champagne and enjoying the general merriment.

"Looks like the fix was in, Gretchen. Seven nailed Phoebe like a laser targeting array," laughed Pulaski.

"Frankly, I'm surprised that you weren't out there vying for it, Kate."

"Bite your tongue, Siobhan! Three times is enough for anyone. I'm finished making those kinds of mistakes."

"Funny, but those words smack of cowardice don't you think, Gretchen?"

"_Cowardice?_" Gretchen had all she could not to burst out laughing at the look of outrage on Kate's face.

Siobhan Paris had spent her entire adult life around career Starfleet officers and knew exactly what buttons to push. "Perhaps I didn't express myself clearly. I'll bet you one thousand credits that you don't have the nerve to get in the group and make an honest effort to catch a garter."

"A thousand credits? That I won't try to catch the garter?"

"A thousand credits."

Pulaski rose majestically to her feet. "You've got yourself a bet, lady." She headed for the dance floor and on the way veered sharply to her left to acquire moral support. She swung by another table of Starfleet brass and hooked Alynna Nechayev under the arm as she passed.

"C'mon, Alynna. We need to uphold the honor of Starfleet women!" A sputtering Nechayev was dragged along with her into the growing group on the dance floor.

Meanwhile on the opposite side of the parquet floor, a chair had magically appeared for Seven and Janeway knelt down at her feet. The grin on Kathryn's face could only be described as wicked as she slipped her hands under Seven's dress and tickled her way up those endless legs seeking the garters concealed high on her new wife's thighs. If either of her hands strayed from their intended path the only indication from her bride was a quickly cocked optical implant and a small quirk at the corners of her mouth. Janeway eased the stretchy garters down Seven's legs and slipped them over her shoes. The crowd cheered as she stood and waved them overhead. She hooked one of them over her thumb, pulled back on it and shot it in a perfect arc into the crowd. What followed could charitably be described as a free-for-all, which ended only with Lieutenant Ayala whooping with glee and holding the garter aloft. As Janeway prepared to shoot the second garter she noticed Admirals Pulaski and Nechayev in the crowd and altered her aim toward them. As she fired she saw Pulaski dodge sideways. Admiral Nechayev, confronted by an object flying directly at her face, did what anyone would do; she caught it. There was a moment of dead silence and then the ballroom erupted in deafening cheers while the stunned flag officer stared silently at the bit of frilly fabric in her hands.

"Nicely done. Alynna. There may be hope for you yet!" laughed Pulaski as she led the flustered woman back to her table. When she returned to her seat Gretchen, Claudia and Siobhan were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.

"You are a wicked, wicked woman, Kate Pulaski!" choked Siobhan as she slid a small PADD with the credit transfer authorization across the table. "That's probably why we love you. Alynna may never be the same again."

Pulaski grinned as she tucked the PADD into her tunic pocket. "She's a tough old bird; I'm sure she'll recover. And thank you for your contribution to my retirement fund, Siobhan." The four women continued laughing until a fanfare from the orchestra drew their attention.

Gretchen eyes teared up a little as she watched her daughter lead her new bride to the dance floor and begin a romantic tango. Many hours of practice since the weekend they'd discovered Kathryn dancing with a pillow had made Janeway and Seven a stunning pair. They spun around the dance floor to the admiring whispers of the crowd and when their dance ended thunderous applause and cheering rang through the room.

After a bit Janeway and Seven joined the older women at their table and chatted for a few minutes. After they had, the newlyweds stood and excused themselves to change clothes. They found B'Elanna and the EMH and informed them that they were preparing to leave for St. Lucia and went back upstairs to their suite.

Once inside Janeway leaned back against the closed door and sighed loudly. She stretched and walked slowly over to where her new wife stood watching her.

"Did I mention at the reception that I stopped breathing when I saw you coming down the aisle toward me? You were so beautiful that I didn't remember to breathe. I was so nervous when I walked down the aisle, but when I saw you walking toward me all I could think of was how beautiful you are and how much I love you. And I stopped being nervous."

"All I could look at while we were walking down the aisle was you, Kathryn. I was apprehensive before we moved into the vestibule. But when the doors opened and I saw you standing at the altar all I could think of was how much I love you too. And I forgot to be nervous."

"How would you feel about kissing your wife right about now?"

"I believe I would enjoy that very much, Kathryn."

When they came together it was with a gentle sweetness. There was passion, yes, but more important there was an overwhelming feeling of finally coming home. Of being where they should be. A feeling of _rightness_. Their embrace lasted a satisfyingly long time and when they finally stepped apart their soft smiles spoke volumes to each other. Holding hands, they went into one of the bedrooms to change into casual clothes.

* * *

When Kathryn and Seven re-entered the ballroom a few minutes later the party was still in full swing. Phoebe and B'Elanna climbed on the bandstand and took the microphone away from the conductor. When they had everyone's attention they brought Kathryn and Seven up onstage and turned the mic over to them.

"We're getting ready to take off, but just because we're leaving doesn't mean the party has to stop. We want you all to have a great time and be safe heading home. Those of you who are due to report to Utopia Planetia within the next few weeks, we'll see you there. But most important, we want to thank you for sharing this day with us. It has been wonderful to have all our family here to witness our wedding and share in our happiness. We'll see all of you in ten days. Oh, and the first person who hails our COMM badges during that time will spend the next five years scrubbing plasma vents on every ship in the Alpha quadrant. On that note, we'll take our leave."

It took them nearly half an hour to work their way through the happy crowd, bidding family and friends goodbye. When they finally made it back into the lobby Martin and Radcliffe were waiting with a hovercar at the curb. The flight to the Transport Center was brief, but Kathryn and Seven spent it holding hands and enjoying the beauty of the moonlight on the fresh snow. They thanked Martin and Ethan at the Transport Center and moments later were rematerializing in the hot, humid night of St. Lucia. Another hovercar was waiting for them with two of Martin's Marines and in short order they were walking into the plantation house that was theirs for the next week.

The tropical house sat on a mountain ridge between two peaks of the Piton Mountains. The views that had sold Janeway on it were muted by the night into silvers and grays but spectacular even in the moonlight. A plate of cheeses and fresh fruit waited for them on the kitchen counter along with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two flutes.

The two women explored the sprawling house before finally unpacking in the master bedroom. Large skylights allowed the moonlight to spill over the large four-poster bed, the mosquito netting gleaming like spun silver as it draped the bed. At Janeway's suggestion they shed their clothes and padded naked back through the house to the kitchen. Picking up the food and champagne they crossed the living room and walked out onto the spacious pool deck where they slipped into the steaming spa.

Lazily they went back through the events of the day with each other, nibbling on pieces of cheese, fruit and the occasional ear lobe. The cold champagne was a delightful contrast to the heat of the spa and climate. After Seven made a second humorous comment about Janeway becoming a prune, Kathryn stood up and straddled her wife's lap. Sliding her arms around her love's neck, she began kissing the starburst implant by Seven's jaw line and when she had worked her way back to the delicate ear next to it she whispered a suggestion into it. Seven apparently approved of her idea as she stood up and lifted Janeway out of the spa before climbing out herself. She strode to the chaises on the deck and retrieved two large towels and brought them back to where Janeway sat on the edge of the spa. The drops falling from Seven's body looked like liquid mercury in the moonlight and Kathryn's breath caught in her throat at the beauty of that picture.

After toweling off they went back inside headed toward the bedroom. Seven stopped suddenly and Janeway turned back to her with a questioning look.

"Is something wrong, darling?"

"No, Kathryn, I nearly forgot something. That is all."

"What did you forget, love?"

"This, Kathryn." And Seven swept the smaller woman up in her arms and carried her into the bedroom. "One of us is supposed to carry the other 'over the threshold' I believe."

Janeway threw her head back and laughed as Seven put one knee on the bed and gently lowered her to the sheets. She kept her arms around Seven's neck and drew the larger woman down with her.

"Mmmm," she murmured, nuzzling her wife's elegant neck, "I'm so glad I married a former Borg: eidetic memory and the physical enhancements to take care of business. What more could a lonely Starfleet captain need?"

Seven eased her head back and kissed Janeway deeply. "I'm not so sure about the _lonely_ part. After all, you spent over a month isolated on a planet with Chakotay, there were rumors about you and Kashyk, you moved in with Jaffen on Quarra and then there was always…_Michael Sullivan_." A major cocking of her optical implant accompanied the last name on the list. "It would seem you got around quite a bit in the Delta quadrant."

"Got around?" Janeway sputtered, "_Got around?_ Am I going to be allowed to defend myself?"

Seven whispered "Yes," on that wonderful spot just below her ear while Janeway nearly purred at the bolts of electricity those marvelous lips were sending around her body. Seven's hands had begun a desultory exploration of her backside, gently caressing her flank and lower back as Seven's thigh slipped between her legs.

"Mmmm, okay, first of all, the only reason I even gave Kashyk the time of day was to make sure we kept the Brenari telepaths concealed from his inspection teams. Since you were the one concealing them in the transporter buffers I'd think you would remember that." Janeway sucked in her breath with an audible hiss as Seven's human hand drifted up her side and passed over her breast with a feather-light touch. "Oh God, yes, darling…right there…"

"And what about Jaffen?" Seven whispered before delicately licking the shell of Janeway's ear.

Moaning, Kathryn managed, "You can't hold me responsible for Jaffen; all our memories had been altered. If Tuvok hadn't resisted their chemical amnesia and got you started investigating I'm not sure that we all wouldn't still be there. But I didn't know anything other than what the Quarran medical staff planted in my mind. So you can't really blame me for Jaffen."

"All right, my Kathryn, I won't blame you for Jaffen. What about the others?" Seven's lips trailed down Kathryn's throat and onto her chest as her hand surrounded a small, firm breast.

"Oh yes…yes, darling…oh God…The…the others? Well, on New Earth the only other person was Chakotay. And I spent all my time trying to find a cure so we could get off that damned rock. That ought to tell you everything you need to know about any alleged attraction to Chakotay."

Seven raised her head and looked directly into Kathryn's eyes. "I believe we can both write Commander Chakotay off as singular errors in judgment, Kathryn." And without warning dropped her head and captured a pebbling nipple between her lips. "And what about…Michael?" she murmured between strokes of her tongue over the hardening nub.

"Seven!" Janeway's voice was almost a sob as she ran her fingers through the french twist of her wife's hair, removing the hairpins and freeing the golden locks. After tossing the pins in the general direction of a nightstand she clasped her lover's head more firmly to her breast, urging more intense stimulation. "Michael? How can I explain Michael?" Realizing that this needed to be said looking directly into her wife's eyes, she reluctantly eased Seven's head away from her and gazed unflinchingly at the woman she loved.

"Michael was a defense mechanism against you. When you were going to destroy the catapult with the Delta Flyer, I realized it then. That what I was feeling for you was far more than what a captain should feel for a crewman. And it frightened me with its intensity. So I altered Michael to be my perfect lover. But you know what? I couldn't. He was pleasant company, I even enjoyed kissing him. But when it came time for anything more I…I…just…I couldn't. I never really knew why, only that I just didn't feel it. I'd like to think that it was because deep down I knew he was a hologram; but to be totally honest, it felt like I was betraying you. And I just couldn't. But I felt so alone. I hope you can understand."

"Of course I understand, Kathryn. Loneliness was the first emotion I felt after you freed me from the Collective. All-consuming, crushing loneliness. I can understand how you would seek solace with Michael. Part of the reason I was in the Delta Flyer trying to destroy the catapult was the desolation I felt at the thought that you were bringing me back to Starfleet for study. That you cared for me only as the object of a directive. Then you knelt in front of me and I could see so much more in your eyes. But then you withdrew from me and I had to adapt."

"I pulled back because I was so afraid of what I felt. I'd never been drawn that powerfully to anyone let alone another woman. The depth of those emotions scared me and I ran from them. Can you ever forgive me for that?"

"There is nothing to forgive, Kathryn. However we got here, we _are_ here. We are _married_. Nothing will come between us for as long as we live. Are we in agreement?" Deep blue eyes flashed with heat.

"We are in agreement. Nothing…for as long as we live…" Seven captured her lips in a searing kiss. Arms slid around each other and the embrace deepened along with the kiss. Seven's hand again closed over Janeway's breast, her thumb stroking the erect nipple. Janeway moaned into her mouth.

Lips brushed butterfly-soft kisses along Janeway's jaw line and a quiet whisper was breathed into her ear.

"I am going to make love to you now, my Kathryn. My _wife_. How would you like me to do so? Tell me what you desire."

Janeway was so focused on the exquisite feel of Seven's body against hers that it took a moment for her to respond.

"I want…"

"Yes, my love? What do you want?"

"I want to feel you fingers deep inside me. I want…I want to feel your lips and tongue. I want to come in your mouth."

"Then you shall, my Kathryn. You shall."

Seven's lips traced a fiery line down Kathryn's neck and chest. Her tongue bathed a nipple that was hard as a diamond and the answering sob she received told her much about her lover's state of readiness. Kathryn began to writhe against her as Seven continued the loving assault on her breasts. One hand slid gently over Kathryn's belly and tangled for a moment in the damp auburn curls at the juncture of her legs.

"Please, darling, now…inside me….please…" Seven obliged, reveling in the copious wetness her fingers encountered. She slipped first one, then a second finger into Kathryn's velvety sheath and began a slow in and out thrusting. Kathryn's hips quickly picked up the rhythm and began to rock against her.

"Please, oh God…your mouth…I want…I want…" Seven began to kiss her way down Kathryn's body, easing her own body between her lover's legs as she did so. Janeway's breathing had become harsh in her need and as Seven's lips neared their goal it became nearly sobs.

"Please…please…" was the harsh whisper that accompanied the breath she blew on Janeway's heated core. A second later, Seven's tongue stroked across the sensitive bundle of nerves there and Kathryn could only moan. Seven took the ridge of turgid flesh between her lips and sucked it as her tongue stroked. The movement of Kathryn's hips became wildly erratic as Seven increased the tempo of her fingers.

Nearly out of control, Kathryn's hands clutched Seven's head to her as she approached her pinnacle. There was a momentary hesitation at the edge and then she exploded in orgasm, able only to cry her lover's name as she spasmed over and over in ecstasy. Seven stayed with her, slowing the rhythm of her fingers and tongue only when Kathryn's tremors ceased and her hands pushed weakly against her. Slowly she withdrew her fingers and after licking the length of Kathryn's sex, placed one more lingering kiss on her center as she began kissing her way back up Kathryn's body.

When she reached her wife's chin, she gently kissed the tip of it before gazing down at the woman she loved. A single tear leaked out of the side of Kathryn's eye and left a glistening track across her cheek. Seven brushed it away with her thumb and placed a soft kiss on Janeway's lips.

"I will love you forever, Kathryn."

Janeway couldn't respond, she merely burrowed into Seven's neck and nestled as close as possible to her. Strong arms enfolded her and she was soothed by the steady beat of her wife's heart under her ear.

"You are my heart, darling. I love you more than I ever thought possible," she murmured. In response, she felt Seven press a kiss on the top of her head.

Gradually her breathing and heart rate returned to normal as she basked in the love they'd shared. She let her hand drift down to brush across Seven's breast and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. The nipple began to firm under her palm. Janeway shifted her head slightly and began to kiss and nip the alabaster neck beneath her. Her tongue darted out for quick tastes of Seven's flesh as her hand continued its caress of her ample breasts. She could feel Seven's breathing quicken and her hips begin to stir. Gently, she eased her leg over Seven's and nudged it between her knees.

Raising herself up on one elbow she kissed her wife in earnest, her tongue drinking deeply of Seven's mouth as she increased the intensity of her hand's caress to include soft pinches and tweaks of the swollen nipple under it. The slick wetness that coated her thigh told her that her wife was more than ready for her to escalate their intimacy. She eased down and took Seven's engorged nipple into her mouth as the hand that had been caressing breasts smoothed down across the abdominal implant and into the molten heat between Seven's legs.

Gently she slid one finger into Seven. She found the smooth patch on the inner lining and began to stroke it. Seven's hips began to undulate in that primal rhythm she knew so well. Her thumb found the bundle of nerves at the crest of Seven's folds and stroked it firmly. The moan Seven gave out became strangled as she eased a second finger inside and began to thrust steadily. Janeway kissed her way across the mesh bands of Seven's abdominal implant and slid her body down between Seven's legs. She gently withdrew her fingers and slid her arms under her wife's legs, raising them onto her shoulders. Blowing gently into the heat, she buried her face in the fragrant folds, her lips and tongue seeking the touchstone of Seven's passion. Her fingers slid back inside with no difficulty and resumed their thrusting. Seven's hips matched her pace and began to jerk erratically as Kathryn's lips and tongue urged her to greater and greater heights. Finally, with a cry that was almost a shriek, Seven's orgasm crashed over her, her body clenching around Kathryn's fingers over and over until with a sob she collapsed, limp and spent.

Janeway kissed her way back up Seven's body and took her in her arms. They held each other as racing pulses calmed and breathing became steady again. Finally, Seven opened her eyes and gazed at Janeway. A slow glowing smile grew on her lips.

"Kathryn, we are _married_."

Janeway chuckled quietly. "We certainly are, darling. Any regrets?"

"None, Kathryn. Nor will I ever have any. You may drive me to distraction on occasion, but never will I regret marrying you."

"Nor I you, darling. I will never forget how beautiful you were walking down the aisle toward me. I will never forget the beauty of your smile as you looked at me."

"And I will always remember the look of joy on your face as you held out your hand to me at the foot of the altar."

Snuggling together, their kisses soothed rather than aroused. Soon Janeway began to feel sleepy and burrowed into Seven's neck. Seven kissed Janeway's forehead and eased her arm out from underneath her. She sat up and pulled the silky sheet up over them and with a firm tug dropped the silvery mosquito netting around the bed.

Settling back into the soft bedding, she drew Kathryn's head onto her shoulder and wrapped her in her arms. Legs intertwined, breathing slowed and with almost inaudible sighs the two lovers fell asleep wrapped in each others' arms and bathed in moonlight.


	9. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

"Damn, Ethan, you look like ten miles of bad road. Didn't you have a good time at the wedding?"

Max's question took Radcliffe somewhat by surprise as he had been focused on the plate of breakfast in front of him. "Just the opposite I'm afraid, Max. I had a wonderful time. In fact, I think I'm suffering from 'Janeway withdrawal'. I was just thinking that this coffee isn't as good as Phoebe's special brew and this french toast can't compare with what Seven served a week and a half ago. I'm not even going to _mention_ Mrs. Janeway's cooking…I might cry. She and Phoebe had us over to the farm for brunch yesterday before everybody left for home. I miss them already."

"Well, it's good you're back. I need an eyewitness report. Rumors are flying around the base. Is it really true that Admiral Nechayev got wasted and made a pass at Admiral Pulaski?"

Laughing, Radcliffe set the record straight. "No, but she did catch one of the garters with Pulaski's help. Mrs. Janeway told me the story. Mrs. Paris – _Mrs. Admiral Paris_ – bet Pulaski that she didn't have the guts to try to catch a garter. Pulaski took the bet and on her way into the crowd she grabbed Admiral Nechayev and dragged her along. Captain Janeway fired the second garter right at Pulaski, but she dodged and it came right at Nechayev's face. She stuck a hand up and caught it right before it hit her. It was like she didn't realize what she'd done for a minute – she looked like a deer caught in a spotlight. Then the whole place went up for grabs. She looked stunned. When she got back to her table all Nechayev could do was stare at this frilly blue garter in her hand. It was hysterical."

"Nuts! So no come-ons to Pulaski at the reception? Nechayev didn't get wasted? Too bad, I kind of liked that rumor."

"Nope. Admiral Nechayev wasn't wasted. And Admiral Pulaski didn't get propositioned. But I did catch her doing shots of Romulan ale with a couple of Marine NCOs in the coatroom. Does that count?"

"Nah. Pulaski doing shots with some Marines is tame compared to some of the stories I've heard about her. Can't score any gossip points with that one."

"Sorry to disappoint you. But it _was_ a great wedding. The Captain and Seven left around 2200 hours for their honeymoon but the party went on for quite a while after they left. I turned in just before 0230 hours and it was still going strong."

"That sounds like quite a blowout. I guess the Voyager crew saw their captain off in grand style. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Now I've got to get back to work. Try to imagine the coffee and french toast come from Indiana why don't you?" Laughing, Max rose from the table and limped back to his office. Radcliffe just grimaced and took another bite.

Not too much later he entered the access codes to Captain Janeway's office suite and ordered the lights to full. He immediately put on a pot of coffee for the staffers he was sure would drop by for a wedding postmortem. As 0730 hours came and went he was mildly surprised that Lieutenant Torres had not reported in, but there was always the chance that there had been some kind of problem on Voyager and she'd beamed directly up to the refit bay. He settled in to begin answering all the communications that had arrived since he'd secured the offices the previous Thursday evening. To his amazement, Lieutenant Torres dragged in around 0830 hours looking much the worse for wear from the weekend's festivities.

Ethan leaped to his feet and assumed the position of attention. It was a struggle not to laugh out loud. "Good morning, ma'am!" B'Elanna only glared at him.

"Not a word, Radcliffe. Not. One. Single. Word. I need coffee and lots of it and I need it _now_," she growled menacingly as she stumbled toward her office. "And knock off that ridiculous military courtesy. I know you only do it to annoy me."

With an effort Radcliffe kept from replying. As the hung over engineer disappeared into her office her relaxed and let out a hoot of laughter.

"I heard that!" came faintly from down the hall. "COFFEE! NOW!" Still chuckling, he went into the workroom behind his office and filled a thermos with fresh coffee. He placed it and two thermal mugs on a tray along with a hypospray Voyager's EMH had entrusted to him. Before he'd left for Mars yesterday the EMH had pulled him aside and given him several hyposprays containing hangover medications. He informed Radcliffe that a group of Voyager's crew was getting together that night for one last bash before everyone dispersed and that some of the people in his office might require them the following morning. Radcliffe was happy for the EMH's foresight. Hung over Klingons were dangerous to be around. Even hung over _half-_Klingons.

As he emerged from the workroom Lieutenant Karri Jameson entered the office anteroom. If it was possible, she looked even worse that Lieutenant Torres. He silently added another hypospray to the tray and handed it to the engineer.

"She's in her office. There's plenty of coffee and a hypospray for each of you. Courtesy of your EMH. He thought you might need them this morning." The look of grateful thanks on Jameson's face said all the needed to be said as she headed down the hall.

Still chuckling, Ethan sat back down at his desk and immersed himself in the COMM logs.

* * *

Eighty million kilometers away on St. Lucia, Seven of Nine awoke with tropical sunshine just beginning to flood in from the skylights above. Gently, she disengaged her arms from around her wife and slipped out of bed. Naked, she walked quietly into the kitchen and prepared a pot of coffee. She filled a mug with the fragrant brew and walked back into the bedroom where she placed it on the nightstand near her wife. That most important of morning tasks accomplished, she walked into the adjoining bathroom and activated the hydro shower.

Adjusting the temperature of the spray as she stepped under it, she marveled at the view. Unlike most shower facilities, this one was only a tiled area of the bathroom adjoining a private balcony. There were no windows or doors, only a pair of shutters that could be closed in the event of a storm. The vista out over the mountainside to the ocean was breathtaking. Even more amazing was the pitch of the slope on which the house was built. The top of a very tall palm tree was just outside the balcony wall. A gentle breeze blew in from off the ocean.

She was so enrapt in the view that she didn't notice the approach of her partner. Janeway took a final sip of coffee and set the cup on the vanity before stepping under the spray with her wife.

"Good morning, darling," she purred, slipping her arms around Seven from behind. "Thank you for the coffee."

"You're welcome, my Kathryn. I enjoy performing that task for you." Seven turned in the circle of Janeway's arms and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman as the water beat down on them. Their kiss, while extremely wet, was also extremely enjoyable and neither was anxious to end it. When they finally broke apart both were breathless. Janeway reached out and shut off the water.

"I think I'd like to explore this balcony. What do you say to that, love?"

"It appears almost too small to explore, Kathryn, but there is a chaise on it and I believe _that_ is large enough for us to…explore…something else." In a moment the women were lying on the chaise in a dripping tangle of arms and legs, their lips locked together.

Janeway could barely contain herself as her passion spiked. She slid her hand down Seven's arms and onto her breast, rolling the rapidly hardening nipple under her palm as her tongue danced with Seven's. She broke their kiss. slid down her lover's body and engulfed the other nipple with her mouth. Sucking as hard as she dared, she began to gently pinch the other nipple, urged on by Seven's moans and the fluttering of her hands on Janeway's head. Her ministrations became more intense as Seven's moans grew in volume.

Lifting her mouth from the sweetness of Seven's nipple she rasped, "Spread your legs." Seven obeyed immediately and Janeway suddenly sat up and pivoted her upper body around. Catching Seven's thighs in her arms she looked down on the glistening sex below her and with her own moan buried her face in the wet heat she found there. Seven nearly flew off the chaise at the explosion of electricity Janeway's mouth caused and her hips began to jerk at the intense contact. She felt Janeway work two fingers inside her and begin to slowly thrust them in and out as she sucked and licked the sensitive bud at the apex of Seven's sex. Unable to articulate any words, Seven could only sob with pleasure as that magical tongue did its work and her cortical node threatened to decompile under the onslaught of arousal. In moments, she was at the brink and then crying out as a powerful orgasm crashed over her like the waves crashing on the beach so far below them. Janeway slowed her caresses as Seven's hips bucked uncontrollably at each stroke of her tongue and eased her dripping fingers from their tight sheath. She placed a final kiss on Seven's sex and then turned back to lie on her lover.

Kissing Seven's throat just below her jaw she murmured, "I love you so much. I love the way you taste and the way you cry out my name as you come. You are everything to me, my darling."

Seven could not catch her breath enough to reply so she merely drew Kathryn up and kissed her deeply, tasting herself on those deep red lips. As her breathing slowed her hands began to drift down Kathryn's back to clasp the firm roundness of her buttocks. She swallowed the moan her caresses caused and gently eased her Borg hand over the soft roundness and down into the damp heat below. She could feel Janeway trying not to writhe on top of her as her fingers found the source of her partner's wetness and gently spread it all over the velvety folds.

Breaking their kiss as she brought her hands back to her partner's backside she urged Janeway forward. "Sit over me, Kathryn," she said softly, drawing her partner forward. Janeway could only moan in anticipation as she positioned herself over Seven. The tropical sun beat down hotly on her back as Seven's molten mouth engulfed her sensitive nodule. Blood thundered in her ears as her hips began to rock in response to the stroking of Seven's tongue. Suddenly the tongue stopped and Seven drew her mouth away. Panting, Janeway looked down at her in near panic.

"I want to watch you touch your breasts, Kathryn. I want to watch you stroke yourself with your hands as I stroke you with my tongue." Janeway nearly passed out at the thought of that visual but lost it in the gasp that erupted as Seven's mouth and tongue returned to their loving task. She felt Seven prop her legs up to support her and she leaned back against them, confident that Seven would hold her upright. Hesitantly, she drew her hands up her belly and began to slowly stroke her own nipples, keenly aware of the bright blue eyes that observed every touch. Closing her eyes and throwing her head back, she began to roll the hard nubbins between her fingers, pinching and pulling them as her passion grew. Suddenly she was there, her climax exploding within her. Sobbing, she withdrew her hands and tried to disengage from Seven's voracious mouth. But her partner clasped her thighs firmly and continued to lave her most intimate folds with her tongue. Janeway's belly clenched and with a gasp she felt the heat rising within her again. She began to moan in rhythm with her rocking hips and unaware, her hands returned to her breasts. She cried out in ecstasy again and again; Seven refusing to release her until with a scream, she came so hard she could only collapse atop her partner in tears, her cry lost in the wind and the jungle around them.

* * *

Radcliffe was just over halfway through the COMM log when he was hailed by Lieutenant McDeere.

"So how was the wedding, Radcliffe? You don't look too badly hung over."

Ethan laughed and replied, "I'm the only one in the office who isn't. I was passing out hyposprays like candy this morning. I understand some of Voyager's crew got together last night for one last party before they all get reassigned. But it was a wonderful wedding."

"Glad you enjoyed yourself. Are you ready to get back to work? I'm reserving the holodeck for 1830 hours."

"I'll be there, Lieutenant. Do I need to bring anything special?"

"No, I think we'll work on your hand to hand from now on. You know enough to practice your marksmanship on your own. And that's all it'll take. When you feel ready to try and qualify I'll check you out right before you shoot for any last minute adjustments. But frankly, you know all you need to know. All you need is practice. And the hand to hand skills take more time to learn. So let's focus on them."

"Aye, aye, Lieutenant. I'll see you at 1830 hours."

"Okay, Radcliffe. See you tonight."

The morning progressed quietly aside from one minor dustup with Lieutenant DiCampo of Logistics and Supply. Radcliffe dealt with it without mentioning his back channel requisitions to Lieutenant McDeere and the officious bureaucrat seemed to be placated. But surface appearances were deceiving; DiCampo was anything but placated. Later that day McDeere closed down her board and walked out of the office headed for dinner and her workout with a spring in her step. As she walked past DiCampo's office she nodded and bid him goodnight, unaware that with Commander Nixon's permission he had broken into her logs and was deep into her Voyager refit files.

* * *

While McDeere and Radcliffe worked out on Mars, on Earth Voyager's EMH was taking the gamma shift rotation at Starfleet Medical. While his seniority was such that he wasn't required to do so he occasionally enjoyed the quiet of the graveyard shift which to plan out the course of treatment and the timetable for the removal of additional implants for the Free Borg. He and Kate Pulaski were heading up the team of surgeons removing the Borg hardware from the freed drones; the problems of not only weaning them off their implants but dealing with multiple species' medical requirements made for a heavy workload. Only the holographic EMH could maintain the lengthy shifts without feeling the effects of extreme fatigue.

The Free Borg were housed in a separate wing of the medical complex away from the rest of the facility for security purposes. Starfleet was keeping their arrival a secret as much as possible: memories of what happened at Wolf 359 were still very fresh in the Federation's collective memory. Access to the ward was limited; a damping field blocked transport in and Starfleet security officers guarded the entrance. It was quiet duty and Security was taking advantage of that fact to season its newest officers. The young officers were fully trained and guarding the Free Borg gave them experience they desperately needed before shipping out on a starship.

After the EMH completed the surgical schedule for the remainder of the week he left the small office behind the main workstation of the unit to check on a particular Balnean drone who had spiked a fever that so far had refused to come down. He pulled out his tricorder to initialize the special settings her species required and was surprised to watch it indicate physiological signs of extreme stress as he passed a member of the nursing staff. Looking back, it occurred to him that he had never seen that face before. He ran some scans of the Balnean and administered a hypospray of netinaline to boost her nanoprobe activity and hopefully eradicate the infection he suspected was forming beneath a remaining implant. As he walked back to the workstation he noticed two medics doing a scan of another drone. What caught his eye was that one medic was holding the tricorder upside down and the scanning module reversed. There was no way that tricorder could take readings being used like that and for some reason the other medic wasn't saying anything.

Alarm bells went off in his mind and he quickly headed to the ward entrance and the security officers. Alerting them to the fact that there might be intruders on the ward, he ordered them to summon additional security personnel. Grabbing a phaser he headed back into the ward after ordering the young security officers not to let anyone get past them. Their grim expressions told him they would do their best.

When he got back to the nursing station in the middle of the corridor the two medics who didn't know how to use a medical tricorder were just vanishing into a room half way down the hall. The EMH broke into a run to catch them, doing so just as they attacked the drone lying in the bed. The EMH took a wild shot to draw the attention of one of the medics while he dodged their return fire. He felt his matrix flicker as the energy beam passed through it and nailed the intruder with his second shot, unaware that his phaser was set to kill.

Unfortunately for the other attacker, the drone they had chosen murder was Hirogen and had been recuperating for several days. The huge hunter came off his bed with the throat of his assailant in his Borg hand and slammed him against the wall. His roar of fury drowned out the sound of crushing bones as his grip tightened fully. He tossed the limp carcass across the room and spun to face the Doctor.

"Are you all right?" demanded the EMH.

"I am functional; more than most. I have had the longest time to heal."

"Then come with me; we need to safeguard the rest of your crew." The EMH grabbed the weapons of the intruders and tossed them to the hunter. They spread out through the hallway and gathered as many of the drones as could walk. Together, they organized a rear guard protecting the drones still too weak to leave their beds.

"Don't let anyone by you unless I'm with them. I'm still not sure who to trust. More Security forces are on their way but I don't know if there are more of these attackers waiting to storm the ward."

"Do not worry, Doctor. No one will pass while we can still fight."

Nodding in understanding, the EMH headed back to the main entrance of the ward at a run. What he saw there chilled his holographic heart.

Two of the young Security officers were down with the other three frantically trying to hold off what appeared to be two dozen heavily armed attackers. The EMH ran through the phaser blasts to the Security room and grabbed a disruptor rifle. He joined the remaining security forces and began firing back at the grim-faced group determined to kill his patients.

Across the Starfleet complex, the mayday call for more security officers tripped an alarm not only in the Security control center but at the Presidio in the Marine barracks. When Martin and the 1st Rifle Company, FMSG had shipped out to Mars, Admiral Patterson had drafted another company of Fleet Marines to be seconded to Starfleet Security, HQ. As security officers ran to their weapons lockers, the Fleet Marines were out of their bunks and in full gear in less than three minutes. Their watch officer programmed the location of the alert into the squad bay transporter and beamed the squad directly into the ward behind the Security station.

The EMH watched helplessly as yet another security officer went down under the withering fire of their attackers. He quickly checked the power cell on his disruptor rifle knowing it couldn't last much longer. He raised it to his shoulder and took aim at the wall of assailants in front of him when a deafening barrage of fire erupted from _behind_ his position. He spun to find fifteen Fleet Marines fully engaged with the attacking forces. And those Marines knew their job very well.

As quickly as that the tide turned and it was now the attacking forces that endured a withering hail of fire. The EMH dropped his rifle and began pulling the downed Security officers out of the firefight as the Marines calmly cut down the terrorists arrayed against them. When the additional Starfleet Security forces arrived moments later the fight was all but over. The fusillade of fire dropped off to sporadic bursts and finally ended altogether.

Two of the Security officers were dead but the EMH was able to stabilize the others quickly and then led the Marines down the ward to where the Free Borg had barricaded themselves. Once assured that none had been injured further they were assisted back to their beds, this time with armed guards in the hallways. The EMH returned to the injured security officers.

Most of the attackers had been killed in the firefight, but the Marines and Starfleet Security forces has captured four of them. Identity scans showed all the dead and three of the unconscious captives to be members of an ultra-conservative "Earth First" terrorist cell. Hundreds of these fanatic groups had sprung up in the aftermath of the Dominion War, opposed to recognition of any race other than humans. The bulk of their membership was known to the Starfleet and Federation Intelligence divisions, but the remaining terrorist was a mystery. He had no identity chip, no DNA, retinal scan or even fingerprints on file. To all intents and purposes, the man did not exist.

An interrogation detachment had arrived from Starfleet Security when the EMH returned to the nurses' workstation. At the request of the lead interrogator, he did a full-body scan of the unidentified terrorist and discovered a polyceramic sub-dermal implant. To his dismay, the scan also revealed a false tooth with a reservoir of extremely fast acting poison. He neutralized the compound and removed both the false tooth and the implant.

The lead interrogator was examining another device they had removed from the attacker. He had been reaching for it when he'd been stunned by phaser fire. It was only luck that he'd been hit before being able to activate the strange device. None of the security officers had ever seen anything like it. When Admiral Patterson arrived he examined the technology and then requested that the EMH revive the still unconscious man.

"Who are you working for?" demanded the lead interrogator when the hypospray the EMH administered had taken effect.

"Only Earth. Humans are the most advanced species in the galaxy. We should be protecting ourselves. Let the alien races kill each other off. When they do, humans will take over their rightful place as the leaders of the galaxy."

"Is that why you decided to murder hospitalized guests of the Federation?"

"'Guests of the Federation'? They're fucking _**BORG!**_ We ought to kill each and every one of them! After what they did at Wolf 359 they don't deserve to live!"

"And just how far are you prepared to go in support of your cause?"

"I would die to keep those filthy monsters off Earth!" Admiral Patterson wasn't listening intently as the interrogator questioned the fanatic, but he observed the process closely. The man's answers sounded like what the lunatic fringe would spout, but there was a look in the man's eyes that didn't jibe with the intense hatred spewing out of his mouth. His eyes were just a bit too cold; too calculating to be a true fanatic. And lunatics didn't usually plan ahead far enough to have a false tooth and a reservoir of lethal poison drilled into their jaw.

With a growing feeling of unease, Patterson took the mysterious device and headed back to Headquarters. Back in his office he turned the device over and over examining it closely. His scans couldn't penetrate the encryption coding and there was no outward indication of its function. He summoned his technical chief and turned the device over to him requesting hourly updates on the analysis. With that, he began to review the after-action reports of the officers involved in the firefight and prepared to contact the families of those who had fallen.

* * *

The sun had risen before Admiral Patterson surrendered. The updates he'd demanded were prompt, concise and identical. No scan, probe or analytical tool employed by Starfleet Security seemed capable of breaking the encryption of the device they had recovered from the mystery man apprehended in the attack on the Free Borg. Finally accepting the irrefutable data in front of him, Admiral Patterson picked up the device and left his office headed for the Starfleet's Intelligence Directorate one floor up. His expression caused several officers approaching him to quicken their pace in a different direction.

Admiral Chapman's adjunct ushered him into the inner office immediately and closed the door behind him. If Patterson was at all surprised when his peer held up a silencing hand and activated a tiny device on the desk before rising and greeting him he didn't show it.

"Hello, Rob. What brings you up to the happy land of spooks this morning?" after shaking hands, Chapman indicated they sit in a conversation area by the windows of his office.

"Alan, I'm sorry to bother you so early without a call first, but we had a somewhat disturbing incident last night."

Both men settled in the comfortable chairs ignoring the panoramic views over San Francisco Bay in front of them. "The assault on the Free Borg at Medical?"

Patterson nodded. "We captured four of them. Three are your garden-variety xenophobe nutcases. But one of them is something more. Something much more dangerous I think. He doesn't exist. No DNA, fingerprints, retinal scans or identity chips on file for him." Chapman's surprised expression became more pronounced as Patterson continued. "We found a false tooth with a very nasty poison embedded in his jaw. And he was trying to use this when we took him down." Patterson placed the device on the arm of Chapman's chair. "None of our equipment seems able to penetrate the encryption on it. We've been working on it all night and nothing. I was hoping that maybe your tech wizards might have something else we could try."

Chapman picked up the innocuous-looking object and examined it closely. "You've been at this all night you say? God, Rob, do you need some coffee?"

"I'm fine, Alan. I was going to head to the dining room when we finished here."

"And there's no record of any kind on this man? That's impossible; even if he was raised in the wilderness somewhere we'd have _some_ record of his existence. It takes some serious work to make all records of an individual disappear."

"That's what frightens me, Alan. Why I came up here. I need your help."

"Well then, let's get the ball rolling." Chapman tapped his COMM badge and instructed his adjunct to send their tech director in. Ending the hail he turned back to Patterson. "Is there anything else you can tell me about this or the man who was trying to use it?"

"I wish I could, but he's refused to talk except to spew the usual racial hatred you'd expect from these lunatics. But it was his eyes, Alan. He didn't have the eyes of a fanatic. His eyes were too cold and calculating. That's why I need to find out about this…thing."

A sharp knock at the door announced the arrival of the Intelligence Tech chief. The tall, handsome Dokkarian male strode into the room and walked over to where the Admirals were seated.

"You asked for me, Admiral?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. Rob, this is my technical chief, Garan Rekar. Lieutenant, this is Admiral Patterson." The men nodded briefly in greeting as Chapman continued. "Last night a group of fanatics attacked Starfleet Medical trying to kill the Free Borg recuperating there. Security took this off one of them. Any ideas what it might be?"

Rekar examined the small device closely, pulling a small scanning probe from his pocket and passing it over what appeared to be an activation ridge on it. He frowned at the result.

"I do not immediately recognize this, Admiral. May I return it to our labs and begin analysis on it there?"

"Of course, Rekar. Make it a priority and notify me immediately if you have any results."

"Of course, Admiral." The Dokkarian nodded his goodbyes and hurried off to his lair in the secured analysis laboratories.

"If anyone can discover what that thing is it's Rekar. The man is a genius with anything technological. I've never seen anyone with a more intuitive grasp of how things work than him. I'm sure he'll figure it out."

Patterson rose and extended his hand. "Thanks, Alan. The faster we get some answers the safer I think we'll all be."

"I agree, Rob. Now why don't you go have that breakfast you were talking about and I'll call you as soon as we have something. Or if we don't."


	10. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

"DiCampo, would you please join me in my office?"

The adjunct officer of Utopia Planetia's Logistics and Supply department looked up from the PADD he was studying and rubbed his eyes. The request might have been politely phrased but was a command nonetheless. He rose and walked down the hall to his supervisor's office.

"Yes, Commander? What did you need?"

"What I need, DiCampo, is my second-in-command doing his job. You were supposed to have the _**Praetoria**_ and _**T'solek**_ refit audits on my desk by this morning. Where are they?" To reinforce his point Lieutenant Commander Nixon rummaged through the pile of PADDS on his desk spreading them into a disorganized mess.

"Sir, I personally placed those reports on your desk this morning. If I may?"

DiCampo hesitated until Nixon nodded then reached into the pile and withdrew a PADD with a small red dot on its face.

"Here you are, sir. You'll find both files on this PADD. Is there anything else you need right now?"

Nixon scowled at the younger man and snapped, "Not at the moment. What are you working on now?"

"I'm reviewing the preliminary _**Voyager**_ requisitions. For some reason the incoming requisitions for that refit have slowed considerably in the past three weeks. _**Voyager **_was a top priority at the beginning of the month; all we saw were _**Voyager**_ requisitions. Now we barely see any. I want to know why."

Waving him out of the office Nixon growled. "All right, whatever. Just keep me posted." Di Campo nodded and returned to his office.

At his workstation he keyed in commands to download all of the requisitions for the _**Voyager**_ refit cross-referenced by issuing officer. While he waited for the final report to be compiled he walked into the office workroom and got a fresh cup of coffee. He noticed idly that McDeere's mug wasn't hanging in its usual spot. On his way back to his office he glanced into hers and saw her working at her terminal. In a way he was glad Nixon was as slippery as he was. That way, when he showed McDeere for the back-stabbing, disloyal bitch she really was he'd reap the rewards of giving Nixon what he had so desperately desired for the past three and a half years: McDeere's head on a platter. DiCampo wanted the woman gone too but for entirely different reasons. He was ambitious and with McDeere out of the picture he was a lock to command L&S when Nixon moved on.

He had never forgotten the tirade Nixon had delivered when his repeated attempts to have McDeere transferred from his unit had been curtly refused, the final one with a formal reprimand for his 'apparent inability to function within command strictures'. Granted, Nixon had been drunk at the time, but DiCampo knew that all the Aldebraan whiskey had done was loosen the usual restraints on his politically savvy boss's tongue. Nixon had hated McDeere from the moment she reported for duty. There were several awards for valor on her dress tunic which further alienated her from the rest of the department. She had escaped the worst of Nixon's wrath by maintaining a low profile and doing her job in an exemplary manner. When he was provided with no ammunition with which to discipline her, Nixon eventually backed off and ignored her as much as possible. But DiCampo could see what others in the unit couldn't: Nixon still hated the woman. And now he was about to give his C.O. all the rope he would need to hang her out to dry and secure his own future at the same time.

Sitting back down at his desk he quickly scanned the requisition logs. From the time Captain Janeway had taken the L&S staff on the survey tour of the ship until a little over a month ago the requisitions seemed unremarkable. But just about six weeks ago the volume of requisitions seemed to drop off suddenly. And now he knew why. DiCampo quickly scanned McDeere's logs and then went back to the top for a more detailed analysis. He'd found where the _**Voyager**_ requisitions had gone: directly to McDeere who promptly gave all of them a grade one priority and sent them on.

Typically, a requisition sat in an "in" basket for at least a week while a clerk searched for the cheapest suppliers or those on the 'most favored' supplier list before routing the suggested supplier list to an authorizing officer. But it seemed as though all of _**Voyager's**_ requisitions were being routed to McDeere personally. She had then immediately authorized the _**Voyager**_ requisitions and forwarded them to what the department called 'premium suppliers'. They were suppliers who charged higher prices but whose quality control protocols were unimpeachable. So basically, McDeere was making sure that _**Voyager**_ got the highest quality equipment and seeing to it that the supplies were expedited to boot. Both of which were against departmental protocols. A small smile touched his lips. He had her now.

* * *

The tropical sun beating down on her made Kathryn drowsy as she lay on a chaise by the pool. The soft splashes of Seven swimming some laps were a dim background note to the rustling of palm fronds in the breeze. She wasn't aware of when the rhythmic sounds of swimming stopped. It wasn't until she felt the sunlight dim that she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at her dripping spouse.

Seven had been swimming in the nude and resembled Venus arising from the depths as water dripped off her body. She grabbed a towel and languidly began to blot the moisture off. Janeway just smiled and enjoyed the vision before her.

Seven's smile approached a leer as much as any of her small smiles could. "Are you enjoying the view, Kathryn?"

"Very much so, darling. You never fail to take my breath away. Are you tired of swimming?"

"No, Kathryn. I wish to explore with you."

"Explore _what_ with me?"

"Come with me and I will show you." Seven dropped the towel and extended her hand to Janeway. Without hesitation Janeway reached out for it and allowed her spouse to pull her to her feet.

They held hands as Seven led the way into their bedroom. She wrapped Janeway in her arms and kissed her softly. When they were settled on the bed in each other's arms Seven began to explain her plans between lingering kisses. Everything was going well until…

"B'Elanna gave you a…a _what_ as a wedding present?" Janeway sputtered.

"I am sure she intended it as a joke, Kathryn, but when I thought about it I realized it might be something that we would enjoy. It is, after all, a sex _toy_. You have often said that our lovemaking should be fun as well as meaningful. Are not toys instrumental in having fun?"

Janeway didn't have a ready reply for that one so she let it go. "So let me see if I've got this right. B'Elanna gave you a…a dildo to take on our honeymoon? How the hell are you supposed to…to wear it? Didn't they used to call those things 'strap-ons'? Do you have to strap it on?"

"No, it is a strapless strap-on, Kathryn."

"A _what?_ That's not…how does it…" Janeway surrendered before a massive headache hit. "Well, let's see this _toy_, shall we?" Seven rolled away from her and withdrew something from the nightstand's top drawer. When she rolled back toward her Janeway's eyes widened sharply.

It was bright red in color and one end did vaguely resemble the shape of an erect male appendage – if the appendage in question was shaped like a long, slender dolphin. The other end had a bulbous protuberance and connected to the… dolphin… end with a series of ridges. It was one of the strangest looking things Janeway had ever seen.

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but how does it work? Did it come with directions?"

"After suitable foreplay one partner inserts the bulbous part into her vagina. The ridges here allow for her clitoral stimulation as the toy is utilized. The other partner is pleasured with the long end and these small bumps here allow for her clitoral stimulation."

"Uh huh. I see. And how do you plan for us to use it?"

Seven hesitated for a long moment. "I have never had intimate relations with a male, Kathryn, and you have said several times that I am somewhat…tight. I think that I can accommodate the smaller bulbous end if you can accommodate the longer one. Would you be willing to try?"

Janeway eyed the accessory again and realized how deeply she was committed to this marriage. "I'm game if you are. I don't mean to be indelicate, but does it come with any additional lubricant? Not that you don't arouse me sufficiently under normal circumstances, but it's been quite a while since I needed to… accommodate something and a little extra lubrication wouldn't hurt."

"A jar of lubricant was included with the toy."

Suppressing a hysterical laugh Janeway nuzzled Seven under the ear, teasingly licked across the starburst implant there and whispered, "Then what are we waiting for?" in her ear.

Gentle kisses became more intense and soft caresses drifted into deliberately arousing touches. Breathing quickened, temperatures rose and skin glowed with a sheen of sweat. Seven drew back from a kiss and regarded Janeway almost hesitantly.

"Kathryn, I believe…if we are going to…we need to…are you ready?"

Janeway's reply was as much gasp as anything. "Yes, love. I'm more than ready."

Seven took the toy and opened the jar of lube. Dipping her fingers into the silky substance she covered the bulbous end and reached down to insert it. She stopped when Janeway grasped her hand.

"Let me, darling," she rasped and gently inserted it into her wife, jiggling it a little to make sure it was firmly in place.

Seven's eyes widened as she gasped, "Kathryn!"

Janeway drew back in alarm, "Did I hurt you?"

Seven pulled her back in close. "No, Kathryn, you did not hurt me. The feeling is…intense, that is all. The ridges are extremely efficient in accomplishing their task." Janeway noted a distinct flush on Seven's features and she was definitely breathing faster. She began to think that this might be more fun than she had originally thought. Dipping back into the jar she began to coat the length of the toy with lubricant. Seven's breathing intensified into small pants as she did so.

"Are you all right?"

"I am…fine. It is just…each time you move the toy it stimulates me." Seven gulped quickly, pulled Janeway down and kissed her deeply. When their lips parted she whispered harshly, "I want you, Kathryn. I want us to climax together in each other's arms. Now, Kathryn. Please?"

Janeway's blood pounded in her ears both from the kiss and from Seven's desire. She straddled her wife and gently pressed the long end against her vulva. She slid it forward to touch the bundle of nerves that were crying out for attention then back to her inner lips and eased it inside. She gave a small gasp as the head slid across a particular place inside and then settled her weight on her hands as she sank down to accept it fully.

"Darling, please don't move for a minute. I need a moment…oh, God!"

Janeway couldn't help herself; she began slowly sliding herself up and back down the shaft. Seven was moaning softly and reached up to fondle her breasts, her fingertips pinching and squeezing the hardened nipples. Janeway thought the top of her head might blow off as she and Seven found the primal rhythm and began to move together smoothly.

"Darling, I'm so close…I can't..." she gasped.

"So am I…don't stop, please!" Seven gasped as their pace increased. Janeway felt her belly clench and looked down at Seven as she reached her summit and froze for one endless moment before collapsing as the orgasm swept her away. A moment later Seven cried out beneath her. Janeway's arms nearly gave way as the spasms eased and felt Seven wrap her arms tightly around her. Smoothly, without any hesitation, the taller woman rolled Janeway beneath her and began pumping steadily, driving the toy. Janeway felt her passion rise again and she reached to draw Seven into a kiss. Reason fled as each surrendered to the heat of the other.

Lost in the sensation, lost in each other, lost in their passion the women sought release and found it together, their cries fading as they collapsed nerveless together in each other's arms.

* * *

Admiral Chapman was finishing up a routine conference call when an alert icon began to flash in the upper right corner of his screen. Knowing his technical chief wouldn't cut in on a meeting unless the matter was urgent, he quickly wrapped the business up and disconnected the video link. Fingers dancing over the control surfaces of his workstation he hailed Rekar.

"Garan? Do you have something for me?"

"Yes, Admiral, I do. I've discovered something extremely interesting. Would you mind coming down to the labs? It will be easier to demonstrate my discovery with the equipment we have here."

"Give me a couple of minutes to clear my desk and I'll be down."

"Yes, Admiral."

Ten minutes later the door of the Intelligence Directorate's technical division whirred open to admit the highly decorated Admiral.

"What did you discover, Rekar?"

"It appears to be adapted technology, Admiral. The base technology appears to have been modified from the Founders. It may originally have been issued to the Jem'Hadar during the War. This is a personal transporter, Admiral. And it's like nothing we've ever seen before. I'd say it was alien technology except that the activation and programming interfaces are pure Starfleet."

Chapman's command mask hid his dismay. "Starfleet?"

"The original technology is alien, but has been modified to accept a standard Starfleet tricorder and PADD interface. You can program the beam-out destination using either the tricorder or a PADD in advance. Then, if you get into trouble you just hit the activation interface and you're gone. Right to where you programmed it to send you. The unit is so small that it can be concealed in the hidden pocket of a pair of trousers or even in the cuff of a tunic or jacket sleeve. One quick touch on the activation interface and you're somewhere else. We haven't had time to really break down the programming parameters, but I'm willing to bet that you could program as many as three destinations and using a tapped code on the activation interface, tell the transporter which one you want to use. We've got nothing like this available to our operatives and it would be immensely useful to them."

"Where do you think it comes from, Garan?"

The Dokkarian looked Chapman directly in the eyes as he responded. "The Intelligence Directorate hasn't got anything close to this. Neither does the Research Directorate or Starfleet Security. The only place it could come from is Section 31. They were the only operation funded well enough to develop something this advanced." Unspoken communication passed between the men. Chapman nodded.

"Keep working on it. I want to know everything about how it works and if we can duplicate it for our own use. Needless to say this information is classified Top Secret. Keep your notes on a secure PADD and your communications limited to my office on the omicron channel only."

Rekar nodded. "Understood, Admiral."

Once back in his office Chapman stared unseeing at the vista outside his windows. His worst fears had just been confirmed: it was very likely that they hadn't disbanded Section 31 on Mars. They may not have even damaged the clandestine unit. Chapman had suspicions that the capture of the operatives and data terminals on the Mars facility was almost too easy. Granted, Janeway and her crew had been prompt with their rescue mission, but the ease of their operation was telling. Chapman feared that Starfleet had been fed a red herring when they captured that medical facility. The reality was that Section 31 was alive and well and hiding in plain sight.

Later that afternoon, Admiral Chapman extended an innocuous dinner invitation to Admiral Merritt Ross, head of Starfleet's Tactical Directorate. The two men met at a venerable and discreet private club in the financial district. Both wore civilian clothes and gave every outward appearance of being middle-aged bankers having a routine business dinner. But the topic of their conversation was about as far from banking business as it could be.

"So I gave the device to Rekar and he worked on it until he had a good idea of what it is. It's a personal transporter. Looks like something the Founders came up with that's been adapted with Starfleet interfaces."

"_Starfleet_ interfaces? You're kidding, right? And your department has had nothing to do with any technology like it? I know we haven't." Ross' handsome face was clouded at this news. "That means…damn!" He looked across the table at his dinner companion. "Then our gut feelings were right. We didn't shut them down, did we?"

Chapman shook his head. "I think it may be worse than that. I think what we found may have been a red herring to throw us off the track. I'm afraid that we didn't even put a dent in their operation. That Section 31 is stronger than ever and still operating right under our noses."

"So a Starfleet Rear Admiral was just a front? Richardson was just a sacrificial lamb to make us think we'd broken them?"

"I'm beginning to think so. I'm sure they were behind the assault on the Free Borg at Medical the other day and I'd bet Rob Patterson is thinking the same thing. He got very quiet when I called him with the information on the transporter this afternoon." Chapman threw his napkin on the linen tablecloth. "Merritt, we're going to have to take some precautions. If we're right and Section 31 is still an operational entity then this whole Borg incursion will be a call to arms for them. Seven of Nine will be in even greater danger and I'd bet that Janeway is on their hit list too. If nothing else they'd use her to get to Seven now that they're married."

"Do we have assets in place to start working on this?"

"I'll put out a general alert to our operatives to watch for indications. But I can't shake the feeling that they're close to us; that the safest place for them to hide is out in the open. And the bastards are arrogant enough to be working right under our noses."

"I'd agree with you. They're probably keeping a low profile but I'd suspect that they're closer than we'd imagined too. I'm going to have my people do a sweep of the Headquarters complex and of the larger Starfleet facilities in the area. We probably need to cover Utopia Planetia and McKinley too."

"I've got a good man undercover on Mars. He's been keeping a weather eye out but I'm going to bring him in and brief him fully. He needs to know what he might be up against."

"Alan, should we bring Rob Patterson and Owen Paris in on this? Don't you think we need all the manpower we can get looking for Section 31?"

"You're probably right. How do you feel about a game of golf tomorrow afternoon? I'll get a tee time at the Presidio course and get Rob and Owen to come along."

Admiral Ross nodded in agreement. "It's time to put an end to Section 31 once and for all."

The next afternoon the four admirals met in the clubhouse at the Presidio Golf Course. The round of golf was unremarkable for all of them, but the topics of conversation during the game were anything but. When the golf game was complete, they adjourned to the bar for sandwiches. The discussion continued there.

"So you're convinced that what we uncovered on Mars was just a smokescreen?" asked Owen Paris. He and Rob Patterson were fairly upset at the news Admirals Chapman and Ross had delivered to them during their round.

"I don't want to believe we were taken in like that, Owen, but events of the past couple of days make me think that we were. I'm afraid those files and so-called 'operatives' were just cannon fodder to be sacrificed. You've been interrogating those people since the raid on Mars. Have you uncovered anything substantive in what they've told you?"

Admiral Patterson spoke up. "We've obtained information that is being checked out. But I think that's part of the smokescreen. Everything they tell us requires us to expend time and resources to check out and until we do we're just spinning our wheels. Have we obtained anything substantive? In truth, no, I don't believe we have."

"So you think they've sent us on a wild goose chase too?"

"Yes, Owen, I'm afraid I do," replied Ross. "But instead of getting upset that we were taken in, I suggest we get together and figure out how to uncover what Section 31's really up to. But that raid on Mars wasn't useless. We can use that as a smokescreen too. If Section 31 is convinced that _we_ think we've broken them they'll begin to operate in the open again. If we're ready then we can uncover and destroy their operation once and for all."

"So we just play dumb? Act like we've taken their bait?"

"Well, not dumb, exactly. But yes, we act like we've accepted that their operation is finished. In the meanwhile, we utilize our most trusted people to keep digging to uncover where they've gone to ground. I'm convinced that Section 31 is right under our noses. If we keep behaving like we're convinced we found them and very quietly have just a few of our best people working on finding them and reporting only to us then I think we can spring a trap and really shut them down."

"Are we in agreement? That there's a viable threat here?"

All four men nodded. "All right then, we're in agreement. Now we have to decide where to start. Section 31 is operating a lot closer to us than we think. They'll want to be as near to the power centers of the Federation as they can. They've been so successful in the past because we had our forces scattered all over the quadrant searching frantically for them. What safer place to be than right here where we'd assume they couldn't operate undiscovered?"

"How close do you think?"

Chapman considered his reply carefully. "I'd almost bet that their base of operations is located somewhere in the Starfleet Terran triangle: the headquarters complexes here in San Francisco, our McKinley Station and Trident Moonbase complexes and finally Utopia Planetia and the bases on Mars. Think about it: the traffic between those three locations is very heavy; starships come and go all the time and personnel are rotated in, out and through those facilities in huge numbers. What better place to hide clandestine operations? Their operatives would just blend into the Starfleet background. They'd be lost in the shuffle."

"So we focus our investigation in those three areas? That's a good idea. At least for a start."

Ross suggested, "We need to confine the investigation to only our most trusted operatives. Select secret operatives reporting only to us. If we let it get beyond that the risk that we'll alert Section 31 is just too great. No chain of command, no paper trail. The four of us coordinate. Perhaps a weekly golf game?" His eyes twinkled at the prospect. "Who knows…if we don't find Section 31 right away maybe we'll get in enough practice that one of us will beat Neil at the annual golf tournament."

* * *

Captain Martin noticed Max when he boarded the shuttle. Grinning at the younger man he settled in the next seat and strapped in.

"Hello, Lieutenant Timmerman. Headed to HQ?"

"Good morning, Captain. Not HQ, but close. I'm due for diagnostics on my legs at Starfleet Medical." Max had lost his legs in a plasma explosion on his first starship posting. The cybernetic limbs he'd been fitted with disqualified him for starship duty but allowed him to remain on active duty in a staff posting. "How about you?"

Sighing heavily Martin replied "'A MIDAS Array Interlink Software Upgrade Seminar'. I don't know why they insist we attend these things in person; I suppose the idea is for us to have hands on. Personally, I'd rather just download the information to a PADD and let my comm personnel figure it out and teach the rest of us. Waste of a morning if you ask me. Unfortunately though, I don't make those decisions. So here I am, on my way to HQ."

"I didn't see you in the Commissary this morning."

"No, I had some cereal and coffee at home. I'm still getting used to the concept of having my own quarters off base. I'm too used to BOQ for my own good. The realization that I can program my replicator to have a full breakfast ready for me before I head to my office still amazes me. I roll out of my rack; take my morning run, shower, dress and poof! Breakfast is waiting for me in the kitchen when I finish. Blows me away."

Max laughed. "Just so you don't get too used to it. Ethan and I would miss your company if you did."

The two officers conversed easily on the short shuttle flight. At the Transport Center they headed in separate directions after agreeing to meet for dinner that evening.

Martin entered the Headquarters complex and checked the directory for the location of the Education and Training workshops. He took the 'lift to the third floor and joined a line of officers registering for the seminar. Just before he got to the registration screens he was jostled and felt the burn of hot liquid on his arm. Looking down he watched as steaming coffee soaked the sleeve of his tunic.

"Oh damn! I'm sorry, Captain. I'm such a klutz!" He glanced down at the mousy-looking young woman holding a half-empty mug next to his sopping arm. Hunched shoulders and jerky motions only served to accentuate the myopic blinking of her eyes and her stained lab coat gave ample evidence of her claim of poor coordination. A nest of various styli, pocket rulers and writing instruments in the chest pocket of her lab coat brought one ancient word to his mind: nerd. He suddenly realized where the word came from. The impression only enhanced by the owlish look of her eyes behind thick glasses.

"It's all right, Ms…?"

"Glenn, …Rebecca Glenn. I'm so sorry, Captain. My lab is…is right around the corner; would you like to use my replicator to take care of your tunic?" Blinking rapidly, she stammered out her offer.

Looking down at the rapidly spreading stain he made a quick decision. "That's very kind of you, Ms. Glenn. Thank you."

She pivoted away from him and started off down the corridor. Quick, bird-like steps reminded him of a small creature scurrying away from a predator. Two doors down the adjacent corridor she stopped suddenly and punched in a security code on the door pad. She quickly entered the lab. As the door shut behind him, she turned back to face him.

"I'm sorry, Captain, the replicator is just over here." She pointed to a wall unit on his left.

"Thanks." He quickly shed his tunic and pressed his thumb on the biometric scanner. Once his identity was confirmed the computer accessed his personal files for the correct programming parameters of his uniform tunic and decorations. While he waited he turned back to his young escort.

"I don't mean to be rude, but why do you wear glasses? Can't your vision be corrected?"

"I'm allergic to the drugs and the surgeries only seem to help for a little while. It's just simpler to get thicker glasses when things get blurry."

"I see." He turned away and took his fresh tunic from the replicator. Shrugging into it, he turned back to her. As he did she reached up and slowly removed her glasses.

It was as if she shed an outer skin. Shoulders squared, hunched back straightened. Nondescript eyes now flashed with humor and what had seemed like shaggy hair in need of a trim suddenly seemed bouncing and healthy. He took a cautionary step backwards.

"What's going on here?"

"Let me introduce myself, Captain. I'm Lieutenant Commander Hunt of Starfleet Security. Admiral Patterson asked me to make your disappearance from the seminar unnoticed. You can come out now, Paul."

From behind a side door a young officer of roughly the same size and physical appearance of Martin emerged, dressed as a Marine Captain and carrying a lab coat.

"_Lieutenant Commander?_ What are you…twenty? There's no way you can be a Lieutenant Commander!"

Her laugh was engaging. "I'm older than I look, Captain Martin. Put the lab coat on over your tunic. Give it two minutes after Paul and I return to the seminar and go the opposite direction down the corridor from the seminar room. Take the first 'lift you come to up to the fifth floor. The Admiral is waiting in room 522."

The young operative waited until Martin had donned the lab coat. She nodded briefly and slipped on the thick glasses once more. Just that quickly the vibrant Security officer was replaced by the science nerd and she and the ersatz Captain left for the seminar.

Martin counted off the two minutes and followed her directions. Room 522 was at the end of the corridor on the fifth floor. He knocked once and was told to enter. Admirals Patterson and Paris were waiting for him.

"No problems finding your way then, Captain?"

"No, sir, Lieutenant Commander Hunt was most efficient. Her persona is…remarkable."

"Yes, Bex is one of my best people. She has the unique talent of making herself virtually invisible if she chooses. A human chameleon; I've never seen anyone who can fade into the background like she can. Makes her invaluable for undercover work. But we need to get started; we have a lot to cover and not a lot of time." He gestured to a waiting chair. "Sit down, Jim."

Across the complex at Starfleet Medical, Max Timmerman checked in with the registration clerk on the Rehab floor. The waiting room was crowded with veterans of the Dominion War all waiting to have their replacement limbs fine-tuned. When his name was called, he limped along behind a cybertech orderly and followed him into a small exam room. When the door was closed the orderly turned and quickly stripped off his scrubs.

"Get out of your uniform and into these scrubs, Max. We don't have much time."

"What's up, Tommy? I've never been recalled this urgently before."

"Don't know. But the Admiral's waiting so get a move on. He's up one floor in the Bionic Grafting lab. I'll wait for you here."

When he'd put on the scrubs and grabbed a chart Max left the room and strode quickly down the corridor to the stairwell. Gone was the limp that had characterized his walk and he sprang up the stairs with little effort. The Grafting lab was opposite the stairwell doors.

"Hello, Admiral. Hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"Sorry for the cloak and dagger recall, Max, but we've got a situation you need to know about." Admiral Chapman didn't waste words and briefed the young intelligence operative quickly and thoroughly.

That night at dinner neither Max nor Martin realized they had been briefed about the exact same threat.

* * *

On St. Lucia the mood of the newlyweds had turned decidedly downward.

"Kathryn, do not wiggle around. The dermal regenerator does not work effectively on a moving subject."

"I still can't believe this happened. I used to run around outside on the farm all summer and never burned."

"Really?" The exasperation in Seven's voice became more apparent with each passing minute. "And just how often during those summers did you run around the farm bare-breasted?"

"You know what I meant. And it's not my breasts that are the problem."

"Not for the moment, but they _will_ be in another six minutes. I will get to them as soon as the burns on your buttocks are healed sufficiently to allow you to sit. Stop fidgeting!"

Janeway craned her neck around to try and see what Seven was doing. "Don't use the regenerator at full magnitude. I want to be tan when we get home."

"Yes, Kathryn; I understood the instructions the first three times you gave them. Try to sit up and face me."

"I still don't understand…you've been in the sun just as much as I have. You're tan. Why aren't you sunburned too?"

"What is there to understand? I am not sunburned because I have configured my nanoprobes to tan my skin and resist the ultra-violet radiation beyond a moderate level. Had you utilized the sun block as I requested neither of us would now be facing the very real possibility of your nipples peeling."

"Oww! Easy with that thing! It's not fair; I want nanoprobes too." Janeway complained as her wife moved the dermal regenerator in a small circular motion around her extremely painful left nipple.

Seven glared at her spouse in frustration as she shot her assimilation tubules from her implant. "That can be arranged, Kathryn! Now hold still!"


	11. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

Radcliffe arrived at the office even earlier than usual on Monday morning. He knew Captain Janeway would be eager to catch up on everything that had gone on while she was on her honeymoon and he wanted to have the COMM logs and fresh coffee organized before her arrival.

She strode into the office suite promptly at 0730 hours sporting a nice tan, a ready grin and ready for whatever Starfleet and the fates had in store for her. As she sat down at her desk Radcliffe entered with a mug of fresh coffee and her filled office thermos. He took a moment to explain priorities of the stacks of PADDs on her desk and left her to work. At the door he turned as she called out to him.

"Ethan, I want to see Lieutenant Torres when she gets into the office."

"I'm sorry, Captain. Lieutenant Torres is at Starfleet Academy today consulting with Professor O'Brien on the interfaces Seven needs for her new processor. She's not expected in the office again until tomorrow morning. Shall I hail her?"

"No, that's okay. Tomorrow is soon enough." Nodding, he returned to his desk and the incoming logs.

Janeway soon caught up on the _**Voyager**_ refit project, construction of the _**Boudicca **_and current communications from Picard, Riker et al. Once she felt comfortable with the status of immediate projects under her command she signed off on the logs and withdrew a PADD from the inner pocket of her uniform tunic. She'd carried it for the entire time she had been off and on her honeymoon, reading it over frequently. Now she settled comfortably in her desk chair, sipped her coffee and began to study it one final time. The encryption coding on the PADD had been enhanced by Seven of Nine at her request and it took her a moment to access and shut down the Borg coding her wife had used.

Entering her authorization code, the PADD came to life and displayed the information she had read so often during the past two weeks. _It's amazing how an entire career can be summed up on three pages_, she thought. Scanning the information, she read and re-read the third and final page of the service record. The one that said so much and so little at the same time. But taken as a whole Janeway thought she had a handle on what had happened and why Admiral Pulaski had insisted she consider the officer for duty on her new command. She just needed a few more pieces of information. Some she would get momentarily when she hailed Pulaski and questioned her involvement. And some she would get later this afternoon when she stopped by unannounced to chat with the officer in question.

Keying in the commands again, she began reading from the top of the file:

**JORDAN McDEERE**

(3625497)

SECURITY CLASSIFICATION: **TOP SECRET** (Addenda xref EDISON/Chin'toka2)

**NAME:** JORDAN ANNE McDEERE

**AGE:** 36

**RANK**: Lieutenant, Senior Grade

**CURRENT POSTING:** STARFLEET QUARTERMASTER CORPS, Logistics and Supply, Utopia Planetia, MARS

**ACADEMY RECORDS**

AREAS OF SPECIALIZATION: Tactical Operations/Intelligence

CLASS RANK (final): 03 of 1200

Phi Beta Kappa 3,4

Varsity Hoverball team, 3 years

**POST GRADUATE EDUCATION/TRAINING****:**

MIT/Daystrom Institute – PhD, Plasma Dynamics

Vulcan Security Forces Training Academy – Advanced Tactical Training

Vulcan Institute of Defensive Arts – Class 5 rating in six forms of hand-to-hand combat

Klingon War College – Advanced Heavy Weapons Training

Starfleet Command School – Advanced Command Training

**PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION**

**HEIGHT: **178 cm / 5'10"

**WEIGHT: **72.5 kg / 160 lbs

**EYE COLOR: Blue**

**HAIR COLOR: Chestnut**

**SOMATOTYPE: ** Mesomorph; well-developed musculature

**SPECIES: **Human, Caucasian

**IDENTIFYING MARKS**

Faint 'C'-shaped scar around left eye – more visible when officer smiles

Heavy scarring on/around left knee (see MEDICAL subsection)

**MEDICAL NOTES**

**2374 **

Plasma burns, L arm and hand  
Laceration, L rib cage  
Severe laceration, L eye socket  
Shrapnel injuries, lower lumbar area, L leg, L calf

**2375**

Functional amputation, L knee  
Severe crush injuries to L femur (med/lat epicondyles, articulating surfaces)  
L tibia (med/lat condyles/tuberosity)  
Patella, ant/post cruciate ligaments severed  
Patellar ligament severed  
Fractured patella  
Comminuted/compound fractures, L femur  
Fractures 3re 4th 5th ribs (L side)  
Perforated diaphragm, hemopneumothorax (L lung)  
Lacerated hepatic vein, splenic vein  
Severe plasma burns, R thigh, leg, abdomen

**MEDICAL ADDENDUM  
(forwarded under seal to Starfleet JAG, Eyes Only)**

Cmdr McDeere has been diagnosed with several stress-related conditions in the aftermath of her line service. Being charged with cowardice and mutiny for this service has exacerbated what would normally be minor health problems into serious ones. Cmdr McDeere will require hospitalization for several weeks as a result of her court martial to repair ulcerative conditions and chronic internal bleeding in her stomach and small intestine.

It is the opinion of Starfleet Medical that a non-frontline posting and continued counseling will return this officer to full active duty status commensurate with her distinguished service record.

**SIGNED**: Kate Pulaski  
Director, Starfleet Medical Services

**CAREER POSTINGS**

**USS Monarch** - Tactical Section Analyst; served with distinction

Promoted to Lieutenant, JG

**USS Selvana** – Tactical Officer; served with distinction

Promoted to Lieutenant

**USS Sentinel** – Tactical Officer; served with distinction

**1****st**** Battle of Chin'toka**: Awarded Starfleet Cross of Valor

Citation: For outstanding heroism in the face of overwhelming enemy fire disregarding personal injuries

**USS Sitak **– Chief Tactical Officer; served with distinction

Promoted to Lieutenant Commander

**Operation Return**: Awarded Pike Medal of Valor

Citation: Under heavy fire and at great personal risk moved thirty-one injured crew into escape pods before _**SITAK**_ destroyed.

**USS Grissom**– Chief Tactical Officer/First Officer; served with distinction

**Battle of Ricktor Prime**: Awarded Medal of Honor

Citation: Ignoring life-threatening injuries when _**Grissom**_ was disabled, officer set ship's self destruct and beamed all six survivors to _**USS Monehga**_ before _**Grissom**_ exploded. Severely injured; transported to Starfleet Medical, SF for treatment and rehab.

*******Raid on San Francisco **– Awarded Pike Medal of Valor

Citation: While under medical care, Officer left BOQ at Starfleet Medical Complex SF and organized Academy Cadets into a defense perimeter around Medical facility and took tactical command of squad of Hawk-class fighters in defense of city.

Promoted to Commander

**USS Repulse** – First Officer

**2****nd**** Battle of Chin'toka**: Ordered abandon ship, set self-destruct and evacuated crew when ship completely disabled.

**After Action:** Charges of Cowardice Under Fire, Dereliction of Duty and Mutiny brought by Capt. Joshua Edison, CO; _**USS Repulse**_. Convicted by Court Martial. (see addenda xref EDISON)

* * *

**ADDENDUM, xref: EDISON/Chin'toka2**

**Security Classification: TOP SECRET**

**ACCUSED:** Cmdr Jordan McDeere, First Officer, USS Repulse

**CONVENING AUTHORITY: ** RADM Alynna Nechayev

**CHARGES PREFERRED BY:** Capt. Joshua Edison, CO USS Repulse

**CHARGE SHEET:**

Cowardice under fire  
Dereliction of Duty  
Mutiny  
Refusal to follow legal orders

**Article 32 Investigation Stardate: 52726.03**

**SUBMITTED BY:** Saandor Varik, JAG SF

**_FINDINGS:_** On stardate 52693.15 at the 2nd Battle of Chin'toka, the battleship _**USS Repulse**_ under the command of Captain Joshua Edison, and the rest of the Federation and Allied Forces fleet came under fire from a previously unknown energy weapon of Breen origin. Of the 312 ships in the fleet, 311 were destroyed by these weapons. When _**Repulse**_ was hit by this energy weapons fire it lost all internal power, shields, propulsion and weapons capability. They were left adrift with only emergency power as were all other ships in the fleet.

As the ships around them came under conventional Cardassian and Breen fire and were destroyed, Captain Edison ordered the crew of _**Repulse**_ to continue fighting using emergency power. Cmdr McDeere cautioned against this repeatedly, stating that to do so would destroy the emergency power conduits and would result in the loss of the ship. Capt. Edison again ordered the crew to fight on. Under the command of Cmdr McDeere, the crew attempted to reroute emergency power from damaged areas of the ship to weapons systems and managed to fire two photon torpedoes into the Cardassian/Breen fleet. However this collapsed the emergency power relay systems and _**Repulse**_ lost all life support and power as a result.

Capt. Edison again ordered the crew to continue fighting by any means possible and _**Repulse **_came under phaser fire from a Cardassian dreadnaught. Without shields or weapons, _**Repulse **_took staggering damage. Capt. Edison again demanded that the crew fight on and had announced his intention to fight to the death when Cmdr McDeere relieved him of command, placed him under guard and ordered all hands to abandon ship. Setting the self-destruct, Cmdr McDeere oversaw the evacuation of all hands before entering the last escape pod with Capt Edison. When _**Repulse **_self-destructed, it took three Cardassian warships with it.

Upon recovery of the escape pods by Federation forces, Capt Edison swore out a charge sheet against Cmdr McDeere. When this investigator questioned Cmdr McDeere about events she stated that Capt Edison's statements were fundamentally correct and refused to offer any defense or mitigation of her actions.

RECOMMENDATION: In the absence of explanatory or evidence in mitigation it is recommended that a general court martial be convened on the charges and specifications listed above.

**FINDINGS OF GENERAL COURT MARTIAL: Stardate 52747.94**

In the face of Commander McDeere's refusal to dispute the charges and specifications or offer a substantive defense, in the matter of Starfleet v Commander Jordan McDeere the summary findings of the court are as follows:

On the charge of DERELICTION OF DUTY the court finds the defendant NOT GUILTY

On the charge of COWARDICE UNDER FIRE the court finds the defendant NOT GUILTY

On the charge of MUTINY the court finds the defendant NOT GUILTY

On the charge of REFUSAL TO FOLLOW LEGAL ORDERS the court finds the defendant GUILTY

**SENTENCE:** It is the recommendation of this court that Commander McDeere be reduced in rank to Lieutenant, be removed from service as a line officer and assigned to a rear echelon staff posting. No additional punitive action is deemed necessary.

**IN CONCURRENCE: **

**Timothy Paulson**  
Starfleet Judge Advocate General

**Alynna Nechayev**  
Chief of Operations, Terran Sector  
**  
**

Janeway had committed the details of the record to memory when she brought her workstation online and did some back channel research on Captain Joshua Edison. He had been two years ahead of her at the Academy and she vaguely remembered a tall, thin cadet who seemed ill at ease in his gray uniform. She couldn't remember if he was assigned to Command Track or a different specialty at the Academy but for some reason she couldn't remember him in any command classes. Figuring it was better to question someone who might remember him better, she hailed Will Riker on the _**USS Titan**_. As the screen came online Riker grinned at her.

"Good morning, Kathryn! Is this another dinner invitation? Deanna wants to pump Seven for details about your honeymoon."

"Why? Didn't her parents explain those things to her?" replied Janeway with a laugh. "And are you on your way back toward us so soon?"

"No, unfortunately, we're still on patrol near DS7. We've been tasked with research on the characteristics of Borg transwarp corridors. But I promise to let you know if we head back to Earth. The wedding was fantastic, by the way. We had a great time."

"I'm glad, Will. And make sure you do let me know when you come back this way. Seven and I would love to have you and Deanna for dinner again, honeymoon details notwithstanding. But right now I need to pick your brain a little."

"Fire away."

"Do you remember a cadet named Joshua Edison at the Academy? I think he was a couple of years ahead of us."

Riker's genial face clouded. "Yeah, I remember him. And not just from the Academy. Why are you asking about him?"

"I'm trying to find out what kind of commanding officer he was. I've been reading about him in a service record and I wanted to talk to someone who…"

"McDeere? Are you talking about McDeere?" His voice mirrored the eagerness she saw on his face at that information.

Cautiously she replied. "Yes, I'm considering her for a…posting…on Boudicca. And how would you know about her? Maybe you'd better tell me everything I apparently missed about this while we were out in the Delta quadrant."

Riker leaned back in his seat. "It's an ugly story, Kathryn. And it's going to take a little while. You okay for coffee?"

Laughing, she held up her mug. "Freshly poured, Will. Start talking, my friend."

"Jordan McDeere was…well, her case caused a lot of controversy within Starfleet. You have to remember that when the Dominion War broke out we were woefully unprepared. Most of our captains were used to commanding research and exploration ships. They didn't think like a warship captain needed to. So what we got was a lot of captains who commanded by the book, were inflexible and made terrible decisions when they got into a firefight. Those captains cost us a lot of good crewmen and ships. Edison was one of them. But he had been lucky enough to be posted out on the fringes of the War and always had a good First Officer to keep him out of too much trouble." Riker paused and took a drink from the mug on his ready room desk.

"McDeere was a gifted officer. I assume you've got her full jacket. Have you read the fitness reports? Tenacious, intuitive, gutsy beyond belief, creative in her tactical thinking. She had been promoted ahead of schedule until the War broke out and then they moved her up fast. She never once let her CO down, not until she got sent to the _**Repulse**_ and Edison. Look at her records; she was awarded the Medal of Honor and won the Pike Medal of Valor twice I think. Hell, she won the second one for getting out of her _hospital bed_ when Headquarters was attacked. She was on crutches still trying to get her leg to work and she took command of a company of cadets and organized a defense perimeter around Starfleet Medical. Once she'd secured the Medical facility she hitched a lift to the EOC bunker at the Presidio and took command of a squadron of Hawk fighters in defense of the city."

"That much I can read in her service jacket. What happened on the _**Repulse**_, Will?" she asked quietly.

"Nobody's really sure. But what we _do_ know is that Edison and _**Repulse**_ got assigned to the assault fleet at Chin'toka – the second battle there – and the entire fleet got caught in that Breen energy wave. Our ships were dead in the water. Emergency power only. And only enough of that to launch escape pods." Riker took another drink and looked at Janeway gravely. "From here the story gets confused. A lot of this is rumor and the Court Martial documents were sealed. But crewmen from _**Repulse**_ generally told the same story."

"When the ship was hit with the energy wave Edison kept demanding that they fire on the Cardassian/Breen fleet. McDeere was glued to a Tactical console and was watching what was going on in the battle. She could see that the situation was hopeless and that the Cardassians and Breen were going after the warships and leaving the escape pods alone for the most part. McDeere kept telling him that they needed to abandon ship and that to utilize the emergency power for weapons would cost them life support. But Edison was crazy or stupid or some combination of both. He kept demanding that the crew fight to the death. So McDeere organized a couple of surviving engineers and they managed to reroute the emergency power to the torpedo launchers. They fired two torpedoes before the relays collapsed and they lost even the emergency power. But McDeere had been smart; before they rerouted power, she'd isolated the escape pod launch relays so they wouldn't collapse."

"Meanwhile, Edison was storming around what was left of the bridge and screaming at everyone to arm themselves with phasers and prepare to repel boarders. By this time, everybody on the bridge could see that the Cardassians weren't boarding any ships; they were just blowing them out of space using torpedoes and phaser arrays. They didn't _need_ to board any of our ships. We didn't have any shields; they just blasted us to atoms while we floated there, helpless. Anyway, when McDeere got back to the bridge Edison blamed her for the loss of power and ordered her to organize the crew into fighting groups for the escape pods. He had some crazy idea of attacking the Cardassian fleet using the pods. Apparently that was one crazy order too many for McDeere. She relieved him of command and put guards on him. Then she ordered the crew to abandon ship. She set the self-destruct routines and got everyone into the escape pods. She and the guards manually launched all of them and then hooked a power cell to the relay for the last one. They boarded, along with Edison, and launched the pod with barely enough time to get to a safe distance from the ship."

"When the self-destruct kicked in it took three Cardassian battleships with it. The pods were recovered at the edge of Cardassian space. As soon as Edison's feet touched a starship deck he began accusing McDeere of mutiny. I don't even think he stopped to take a shower before he swore out the charge sheet against her. Once they got back to one of our bases he demanded an investigation. There was nothing Starfleet could do. The news media was going crazy for details of the battle and Edison got his side of the story out to the entire quadrant. They had to follow up on his charges."

"Why didn't she offer a defense, Will?"

"Nobody knows, Kathryn. The only thing the investigator got out of her was that Edison's statements were essentially correct. She never offered any corroboration that he was behaving erratically when anyone on the bridge would have backed her up on it. It was the crew who testified that _she_ was the one telling him that to utilize the emergency power for weapons would take out their life support. She never said one word in her own defense. The investigator had no choice. He had to recommend a general court martial."

"I don't understand, Will. How could Starfleet allow that to happen? It's obvious that once they were hit Edison lost it and was unfit for command. How could they allow her to be brought up on charges like that?"

"Kathryn, you have to remember that we'd just had an entire fleet destroyed _in one battle_. Three hundred twelve ships were in the assault force: three hundred eleven were destroyed. Only one ship survived that battle. The citizens of the Federation and their Allies were terrified. The Federation Council was furious. Starfleet couldn't leave itself open to accusations that its commanders were unfit. They needed the support of the Council to rebuild the fleet. So, they convened a court and tried her. Jean-Luc once told me he'd never seen Admiral Nechayev angrier than the day she had to authorize that trial. She did what was politically necessary, but she also worked behind the scenes as much as she could. McDeere was acquitted on all the serious charges. The only thing they convicted her of was refusal of an order. She got dropped two grades in rank and assigned to a staff position. Nechayev was hoping that everyone would forget quickly and in a couple of months she'd be able to reinstate McDeere. Edison went back into the Fleet with a political hack as his First Officer and got himself killed in his first skirmish. The only bad thing about that was he took a lot of decent crewmen along with him. But I think the trial broke McDeere's nerve because when Nechayev approached her about going back into a ship of the line she declined."

"Any ideas why?"

"You'll have to ask her. Maybe ask Admiral Pulaski too. I seem to remember that she was a staunch supporter of McDeere. Threatened to resign and raised three kinds of hell at Headquarters over the trial."

"It was Pulaski who insisted I consider her, Will. She told me that once I'd read her records I wouldn't have to go any farther to find my First Officer."

Riker nodded sagely. "Pulaski's right. From what I know McDeere would be a great fit at First Officer for you, Kathryn."

"Well, I'm going to surprise her this afternoon to interview her. We'll see how she handles it. But I think I'll take your advice and get more information out of Pulaski before I go. Thanks, Will. I appreciate your candor."

"My pleasure, Kathryn. We'll need all the good officers we can lay our hands on out in the Delta quadrant. I hope she works out for you. I'll pass your query along to Jean-Luc too. He may have some additional information that will help you. Any problems with that?"

"None at all. I'd appreciate any light he can shed. Give my best to Deanna. Janeway, out."

"And you give mine to Seven. Riker, out."

Janeway refilled her coffee mug, leaned back in her chair and contemplated her next move.

* * *

B'Elanna stood in front of the office door and took a deep breath before knocking. At the barked permission to enter, she opened the door and strode to the desk. Master Chief Miles O'Brien – now Professor O'Brien – regarded her easily.

"And you'd be Lieutenant Torres from _**Voyager**_. Glad to see you folks finally made it home. Have a seat."

B'Elanna didn't sit so much as collapse into the chair in front of the desk. "It's a pleasure to meet you Master Chief. I need your feedback on something I've been working on."

"You told me you're assigned to Utopia Planetia, right? The _**Voyager**_ refit? What new designs are you working on for that? I thought I'd heard you were the resident expert on the Borg technology on _**Voyager**_ and were overseeing its removal."

"That's right. But I also worked closely with Seven of Nine on _**Voyager**_ and she's at MIT-Daystrom now. She presented me with a problem and asked if I wouldn't mind trying to come up with some solutions for her to try. And I wanted to run a couple of them past you before I forward them to her."

"What kind of problem?"

"CPU/processor interfaces with deflector arrays."

O'Brien considered her for a moment before he answered. Then folding his hands and leaning forward toward B'Elanna he said very quietly, "Are you trying to tell me that Seven of Nine has made a breakthrough in slipstream drive technology?"

Torres fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. "Master Chief, I can't comment on that. I haven't been given permission to do so. I can tell you that she requested that I come up with a means to increase and strengthen the interface between the processor and the deflector array and that she needed it as quickly as possible."

O'Brien's eyes widened. "'As quickly as possible'? My God, are you telling me that she's nearly ready to start on a prototype? We can't ignore this. If she's ready to build a prototype we've got to alert Starfleet Command and TPG."

Now it was B'Elanna who leaned forward in her seat. "Master Chief, all I know is that she's made a significant breakthrough and needs this interface designed _before_ she can present anything to Starfleet. She's married to Captain Janeway; do you honestly think that she'd try to build a slipstream drive and _not_ bring Starfleet into her project? Believe me when I tell you that is not how Seven works. But I do know that she wants to present Starfleet with a complete package: new processor, enhanced interface and improved deflector array technology all aligned to support a slipstream drive. I need your help with the interface; she's got the rest already."

O'Brien stood and indicated a large worktable at one side of his office. "Well, let's have a look at what you've got." At the table he linked her PADD and her calculations and schematics were suddenly blown up to blueprint size. The two heads bent together over the large display.

"See, what I was thinking was that if we increase the number of capacitors in this area, we could buffer the resistance here and utilize a higher frequency bio-neural relay. But I'm afraid that if we don't provide a buffer on the resistance it won't work. And none of the conventional buffering media would work against that kind of energy flow. Its resistance would compromise the data stream and degrade the processing speed. That's what we're trying to avoid."

O'Brien considered the schematic carefully. "You're right. We don't have a buffer strong enough to withstand the energy flux. But maybe we don't need one. I think I've got something here that might…give me a second to find…" He strode to the workstation on his desk and began to scan his archived files.

"Once on DS9 we had to utilize our deflector array and shield generators to boost a subspace energy burst fired into the Bajor wormhole. We had to beef up the interfaces on the station's systems and we used interlink buffers to spread the load evenly across the interface. By eliminating the variances in energy phase the interfaces were much more stable and we didn't have to deal with any buffering medium along the linkage. If I can just find the schematics…here we go. Take a look at this." O'Brien sent the file in question to the worktable and opened it to display the schematics and calculations of the array enhancements.

B'Elanna immediately recognized the efficiency of spreading the energy streams evenly across the interface and was amazed at how well the interlink buffers performed the task. Moving to her original PADD she began to feed in the parameters of Seven's new processor and adjusted O'Brien's calculations accordingly. As both of them watched the worktable displayed a simulation run. B'Elanna's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"That's amazing! How is it the interlinks aren't overheating at these transmission levels?"

"We buttressed them by utilizing a honeycomb alignment. That way the excess heat is dissipated along the exterior of the interface where the heat exchangers can deal with it. As you can see, even at the increased transmission stream levels neither the interlink buffers or the heat exchangers come near to being over-extended. Add standard cooling protocols to the interface and you've got a link that's even more stable. I think an arrangement like that will work quite well for your interface."

The two engineers continued to discuss the interface for another two hours but all they accomplished was to more firmly convince each other that the buffer alignment was precisely what was required. B'Elanna headed for the Transport Center shortly before noon after hailing Seven. With any luck they'd get the interface designed after lunch.

Stepping onto the transporter pad in the Starfleet section of the center, she commanded "Cambridge, Massachusetts. Energize!"

* * *

The morning had gone well in Seven's lab. She and her lab team had met with the beta-testers and the two groups spent the morning discussing the test protocols that had been conducted so far. As of that morning the new processor was performing precisely to specs and had not even wavered once despite the best efforts of the beta testers to crash it. Seven's team was quietly ecstatic; there was no question that being part of the first team to build a working slipstream would guarantee career advancement and success. While Seven wasn't concerned about those things for herself, she realized that their enthusiasm could hasten construction of a working prototype, and she _was_ concerned about that.

She set both the development and test teams to work and walked to the administration area to brief Dr. Pedersen on the status of her project. The director waved her into the office and Seven took a seat across the desk from the older woman.

"Welcome back, Dr. Hansen. You look like you got some sun."

"We stayed in a plantation house on a tropical island. It would be unusual if I did not have a tan after a week in those latitudes."

The director chuckled. "Very true. Well, the wedding was lovely. Are you and Captain Janeway settling in to married life smoothly?"

"We are. It is strange; we had been living together before the wedding. I did not think that a ceremony would make any difference in our attitudes toward each other, but it did. Kathryn and I are closer than we have ever been."

"That's the way it's supposed to be, I believe. But I'm delighted you're back. How are things in your lab?"

"The testers have been very busy. We had a briefing from them this morning and so far none of their test protocols have caused the processor to in any way fail. My team has been working with them to create more stringent tests and we will continue to push the limits of the processor to simulate what might happen in space. A quantum slipstream drive could power a starship across an entire quadrant in four to five hours. We plan on testing the processor continuously for twenty-five hours to insure it is capable of safely propelling a ship to the farthest reaches of the galaxy and back. That test will happen mid-week."

"And where do you stand on your interface enhancements for the deflector array?"

"Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres will be here this afternoon with some ideas on interface enhancements. She was Chief Engineer on _**Voyager**_ and a most capable engineer. She and I work efficiently together and should have schematics and preliminary calculations by the end of the week."

"So I'll need to contact Starfleet at the beginning of next week to notify them that we've got the makings of the slipstream drive they've been waiting for all these years. Dr. Hansen, I cannot tell you how delighted the Board of Governors is right now. Not that we deliberately place ourselves in competition with Starfleet and TPG on a regular basis, but when it happens it's always good for us when we come out on top. That's not to take anything away from Dr. Brahms and her group, but she and her team do seem to garner a great deal of notoriety."

"I do not claim to understand the political ramifications of research. I will be happy just to move into construction of a prototype drive for testing."

"I would hope that a research scientist wouldn't need to understand the political wrangling that goes on. That's the administration's job. Just do your research and leave the politics to us."

"There is one other thing; I've been requested to help oversee removal of the Borg alcoves from _**Voyager**_ tomorrow afternoon. Will that be a problem?"

"I don't see why. If you've established the testing protocols and have your team working on the interface enhancements then there's no reason you can't be at Utopia Planetia tomorrow. Will one day suffice or do you need longer?"

"I believe that most of the work has already begun; I'll be overseeing the final disconnects and storage of the alcoves. I'm afraid that Kathryn is too demanding regarding them; she is determined to have them available if ever I need another."

"Perfectly understandable. If I were in her shoes I'd feel the same way. We'll see you when you get back. And Dr. Hansen?" Both women rose and Pedersen reached out to shake Seven's hand, "Congratulations. On both your marriage _and_ your research."

"Thank you, Director."

B'Elanna's arrival at the main desk of Seven's building was heralded with little fanfare. Starfleet engineers were a common sight at MIT-Daystrom; Dr. Pedersen saw to it that a good working relationship existed between the two organizations. B'Elanna was escorted to Seven's lab suite by a security officer and then Seven introduced her to the lab team. Torres and Seven set up at Seven's workstation as Seven's lab team tried to watch them without appearing to do so.

"I think you're going to be pleased, Seven. I consulted with Miles O'Brien this morning and we came up with an unbelievable interface. Look at this." Torres linked the PADD she carried to Seven's workstation and the schematics appeared on the screen. As she examined them, even the unflappable Seven raised an eyebrow in appreciation.

"This is a very efficient design, B'Elanna. Have you tested it in any way?"

"Only twice with this particular configuration, but I've got results of both simulations and real-world performance specs from a similar interface that O'Brien used on DS9. They used it to bolster the interface to the deflector array to fire a high-energy beam."

"And it worked for them?"

"Got the performance specs right here. Check them out for yourself."

Blonde and brunette heads leaned close to the screen together as they studied the calculations and results displayed. After several minutes of murmured conversation Seven leaned back.

"Chief O'Brien and I believe this honeycomb configuration will allow the heat dissipation necessary for the interface. And look what happens to the heat coefficients when you add standard cooling protocols at critical junctions along the interface."

Seven looked at the calculations and nodded her approval. "That increases the cooling coefficient even more. B'Elanna, this is far better than I had hoped. With this enhanced interface the data stream speeds will be far more than adequate. Thank you. You have made a slipstream drive possible." The women looked at each other both knowing that not only their lives, but also the lives of those they loved would depend on that drive.

"Well, lets get your lab team busy testing it. If they can't blow a hole it in then we'll know we're on to something. Once we get them started can we grab a bite to eat? Breakfast was a long time ago for me."

"Of course, B'Elanna. It shouldn't take long to show them the schematics and get the simulations started. Come with me."

The lab team's eyes bugged out as they saw the design and performance specs. It didn't take long for them to put together a test protocol and set up a testing simulation. Seven and B'Elanna supervised the beginning of the tests and once the simulations were running smoothly left for the dining room. Seven's lab team was so efficient B'Elanna's stomach didn't even have time to growl.

Meanwhile on Mars, Janeway picked up the PADD she'd been studying for the past two weeks and headed for the Logistics and Supply Department wondering what kind of officer she'd find there. Would it be the kind she needed as her new first officer or more of the broken wreckage of the Dominion War? Whichever McDeere turned out to be, Janeway was looking forward to the interview. Unconsciously, she quickened her pace.


	12. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

Lieutenant Jordan McDeere sat at her desk and exhaled the breath she had been holding. DiCampo had been acting strangely for the past few days and for some reason seemed even more out of sorts than usual this afternoon. He'd just stormed into her office demanding information on some _**Voyager**_ requisitions and when she'd given them to him stomped back out without so much as a muttered "screw you". Something was going and she was fairly sure she knew what it was. From the look of it, she was going to be in trouble again. DiCampo would launch a full frontal assault shortly.

Her tenure in L&S had started poorly. She'd been a decorated line officer and Nixon had hated her on sight. Only her dogged determination to do an exemplary job had kept her position safe; at least she'd thought so up to this morning. Now it seemed that DiCampo was trying to stir up trouble. She brought up the activities on her requisitions over the past several weeks. Sure enough, DiCampo had accessed her files and read through her requisition logs. Specifically the _**Voyager**_ logs. His strategy was pretty obvious at this point. She opened an encrypted file from her personal database and downloaded the priority notification from Starfleet Command for the _**Voyager**_ refit. If Nixon and DiCampo came after her for the priorities she assigned the _**Voyager**_ reqs she now had justification for her actions. Some days she didn't have a clue why she continued to work in L&S it just didn't seem worth the effort. Other days she knew exactly why she continued to work there.

Her attention was caught by the voice of their unit clerk stammering, "B-but sir, you can't just barge in. P-please let me get Commander Nixon for you!"

"Nonsense, I just need to see Lieutenant McDeere for a little while. There's no need to bother the Lieutenant Commander."

"What the devil is going on out here?" Nixon stuck his head out of his office and the unit clerk snapped to attention. When he caught sight of Janeway his eyes widened in alarm. "Good afternoon, Captain Janeway! How can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, Commander. I just want to speak with Lieutenant McDeere for a little while." Janeway glanced at the rigid unit clerk. "As you were, Ensign."

"Why don't we adjourn to our conference room, Captain? That way –"

"No thanks, Commander. This is a private conversation and we won't need your conference room. Now, if you'll excuse us?" Janeway turned on her heel and walked into McDeere's office calling a command to close the door behind her. "As you were, Lieutenant." Taking a seat opposite McDeere Janeway took a good look at the officer seated before her.

She had remembered correctly; McDeere was the older Lieutenant who had been shunned by the rest of the L&S group on the initial survey tour of _**Voyager**_. The one who hadn't had a problem with Jeffries tubes or Borg technology; who had moved through the starship like she'd done it for years. Because she had.

"I'm Kathryn Janeway, Lieutenant. I'm taking command of a new battleship and Admiral Pulaski told me I should talk to you before I chose my First Officer. Why would she do that?"

"Once upon a time I was a decent starship officer; it's time for me to get back in the 'fleet, sir. I've hidden away here in supply long enough."

"I prefer 'Captain' – 'ma'am' in a crunch. But I'll let you know when it's crunch time. Clear?"

"Yes, Captain."

"We'll get to why you've been hiding in supply in a minute; right now I want the answer to one question and one question only: why did you offer no defense for your actions on _**Repulse?**_"

"Because Captain Edison's statements were essentially correct. I did everything he claimed I did."

"And you offered no evidence in mitigation of your actions? There was ample testimony from the crew that your actions saved their lives despite Captain Edison's orders. Why not bring that up?"

Clear blue eyes a couple of shades darker than Seven's regarded her evenly. The faint scar around her left eye socket was more visible as her expression tightened slightly as broad shoulders shrugged.

"He was my captain."

Janeway regarded her silently for several long moments, the meaning of the simple sentence abundantly clear. Her opinion of McDeere rose several notches very quickly. The silence stretched out as the two women sized each other up.

"Admiral Pulaski thinks very highly of you. Want to tell me how that happened? There aren't too many people she likes that much."

"That's a long story, Captain. Can I get you some coffee before we get into it?"

"Black, please."

McDeere stood and walked out of the office to the unit's replicator. As soon as she stepped outside the office Nixon confronted her.

"What's this about, Lieutenant?"

Going on what Janeway had said earlier about the conversation being private, McDeere answered blandly, "She wants to talk about the _**Voyager**_ refit. Now that she's back from her honeymoon she's pushing it to high priority. I've been handling the bulk of the reqs for the refit and she wants to know if we can deliver what she's going to need when she's going to need it."

"I don't like this one bit. She should be dealing with me or DiCampo, not you."

"Well, it's sort of understandable, sir. DiCampo's been busy on his projects and I've been trying to keep ahead of the day-to-day routine stuff so you're free to concentrate on the bigger issues. I guess my name's been on most of the reqs so far and she just assumed I was handling it."

"Well, however she's thinking, you will set her straight. From now on she will deal with either DiCampo or me, clear?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to tell her that, sir." McDeere gathered Janeway's coffee and a cup of her favorite tea and moved back into her office leaving Nixon fuming in the reception area.

Janeway accepted her coffee with a nod of thanks and a brief glance at the contents of McDeere's mug. She gave a wry grin.

"Not a coffee drinker, Lieutenant?"

"No, Captain. I prefer tea. Earl Grey when I can get it."

Janeway chuckled. "You'll get along just great with my wife. She only drinks Earl Grey too; she's just as bad as Picard that way." She took a sip and gave McDeere a piercing look. "You were going to tell me about you and Admiral Pulaski."

McDeere took a healthy slug of her tea and took a moment to answer. "I was First Officer on the _**Grissom**_ and got dinged at Riktor Prime. Usually the medics patched you up and got you into a stasis tube for transport to field medical facilities. They did that with me, but field surgeons thought my leg was bad enough that they sent me back to Starfleet Medical at Headquarters." She took another large sip of her tea.

"When I arrived there I was…in bad shape. My leg was functionally amputated; I think the only thing holding it on was skin. Anyway, Admiral Pulaski did the initial assessment on my leg and decided that it had to be amputated. I begged her not to before I passed out. When I woke up a couple of days later and looked down at the bed I was terrified that I'd only see a stump. But my leg was still on. There was enough hardware in and around it to almost qualify for Borg status, but it was still _my_ leg." At this point she looked up and flushed as she realized what she'd said. "Captain, I'm sorry. That was insensitive. I apologize."

Janeway waved it off. "Lieutenant, my wife does not need me to defend her Borg past. She'd be the first one to understand that analogy. Keep going."

"While I was still trying to get the cobwebs out of my brain the Admiral came into my room and sat down. She looked at me until I could focus on her and then proceeded to tell me that against her better judgment she hadn't cut it off. But that I was in for a year of hell. They could repair the ligaments and tendons and set the bones but even with the latest regeneration techniques it was going to be a year before the knee would be strong enough to support me safely. And in the mean time I was going to have to endure some of the most painful rehabilitation there was." McDeere scowled. "I did manage to cut down her year of hell to six months of hell but she wasn't kidding about the rehab. I think it was worse than the original wound. But the Admiral never pawned me off on another medic. She was always there for me and she made it a point to check in a couple of times a week. Once I was able to get around on my own again we started having dinner occasionally."

"Tell me about the raid on Starfleet Headquarters."

"Not much to tell, Captain. I was in the BOQ adjacent to Medical going through rehab when they attacked. I could see the Jem'Hadar fighters from my window and I knew that HQ was taking heavy damage. So I grabbed my crutches and limped out of the barracks. When I got outside there was no security for the medical complex. There was a bunch of Academy cadets milling around shouting and I organized them into a couple of squads, got them some phasers and stationed them around the medical facility. Then I got a ride to the EOC at the Presidio. I'd been a tactical officer so they gave me the COMM link for a squadron of Hawk fighters and told me to coordinate their attacks. I watched the tactical screens and ordered the fighters where I thought they could do the most good." She barked a short laugh. "Typical fighter jocks; they didn't want to listen to me. I had to bang a few heads and bark a little to get their attention, but once they flew where I told them to they did some damage. That's all there was to it."

"You don't like talking about yourself much, do you? All right, I can accept that. So how is it that an officer who served with distinction on every ship she was assigned except one has been hiding in Logistics and Supply for damned near three years?"

McDeere laughed again. "Didn't you read my jacket, Captain? I was demoted and assigned here."

"I know that. I also know that Admiral Nechayev tried to get you to go back into the 'fleet after three months and you refused. Want to tell me about that?"

"By the time the court had decided my fate and passed sentence the fire inside that drove me just wasn't there any more. I wouldn't have been an effective officer in a ship of the line. So I stayed where I couldn't get anyone killed."

"So why now? You could have refused to talk to me. And I doubt that Admiral Pulaski would have told me to interview you without your permission. What's happened since then?"

"I'm not really sure, Captain. The admiral has been a staunch supporter even during my court martial. She stuck with me and never lost her faith in me. Even more, she helped me restore my faith in myself. I guess I healed."

"How did you lose faith in yourself? Did you lose your nerve?"

"With all due respect, Captain, that's a personal question I'd rather not answer."

"Why not? If you're going to be my First Officer I need to be sure you won't you're your nerve again. How am I supposed to know that? Just take your word for it? I need a First Officer who can stand up under pressure, not somebody who caves in as soon as things get tense. What happened?"

"Captain, I told you, it's personal and I would rather not talk…"

"What happened?" The intensity of Janeway's voice increased as her tone and volume fell.

"It wasn't any one thing, I…" McDeere's face began to flush.

"What _happened?_" Janeway's eyes darkened to a stormy gray; a sign anyone who knew her feared.

"I don't…"

"_What happened?_"

"I…"

"_What happened?_"

McDeere exploded, "_The sonuvabitch was __**crazy**_, _okay? I tried to keep him from killing the crew but he wouldn't listen! I saved his stupid ass and he charged me with __**mutiny**__! And Starfleet threw me to the wolves to pacify the politicians!_"

As quickly as the eruption came it subsided and she collapsed back in her chair. "I didn't lose my nerve…I got my heart broken. Everything I believed about Starfleet…gone…the best parts…the parts of me…I couldn't…I didn't believe in it anymore. I didn't believe in what had always been the best parts of _me_ anymore. It's taken a while to get that back."

Janeway regarded her silently for long moments. When she spoke again her voice was quiet and firm. "We're going up against the Borg Collective. We're going to be outnumbered and probably outgunned, but we're going in with some technology that will confound the Borg. I'd say the odds will be fairly even. I expect my First Officer and senior staff to present a united front with me to the crew. I expect my First Officer to offer alternative solutions to problems _privately_. But once I make the call, I expect my First Officer to be standing beside me without question." She looked down at the PADD in her hand and then back at McDeere. "You hear anything there you can't live with?"

McDeere's eyes flashed with warmth and a small smile played around her lips. "No, Captain."

Janeway nodded once and stood. "Okay then, I'll be in touch one way or another. I don't like to keep people hanging. In the meantime, will you keep the _**Voyager**_ refit on track? My people have said good things about your work."

McDeere rose and extended her hand. "I'll do my best, Captain. And thank you for considering me."

Janeway shook the outstretched hand and looked deep into the blue eyes as she smiled. "My pleasure, Lieutenant." And with that she turned on her heel and walked out nodding pleasantly to the officers gathered in the anteroom.

She hadn't been gone five seconds when Nixon stormed into McDeere's office demanding to be briefed on the conversation.

Late that night Janeway still studied the PADD containing McDeere's service record. She was propped up in bed listening to Seven preparing to join her. When her spouse slipped under the sheets beside her she looked over and smiled. Seven's face showed amusement.

"What's wrong?"

Seven's soft chuckle washed over her like a warm wave. "We have been married less than two weeks and already you bring work to bed with us. Has my appeal waned so quickly?"

Janeway leaned over and kissed her enthusiastically. "Not one tiny bit, my love. But I can't get the conversation I had with Lieutenant McDeere out of my mind."

Seven looked at her curiously. "Why not, Kathryn?"

"I don't know, exactly. There's something about her. Normally I wouldn't even consider someone with a court martial on their record, but the more people I talk to the more I'm convinced that she was railroaded. And if I believe that, then I have to face the fact that Starfleet may not be the same organization I have believed in my entire life. That's not fun to contemplate."

"Kathryn, the Federation and Starfleet fought a devastating war while we were trying to get back to Earth. Surely you don't think that Starfleet would be unscathed and unchanged after a conflict like that?"

"No, you're right. But when I think about Starfleet not standing up for one of its best officers it bothers me. I guess I don't want to think that it's changed _that_ much."

"Kathryn, you must think of the bigger picture. Yes, apparently Starfleet did sacrifice your Lieutenant McDeere. But never forget why it was done. Didn't you tell me that no one wanted to try her but that it was necessary to appease the Federation Council and keep the funding necessary to rebuild the fleet? It was one of Starfleet's finest officers who said 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.' Ambassador Spock said that, did he not? At that moment, the needs of Starfleet outweighed the needs of Lieutenant McDeere."

"You're right, as usual. But it still bothers me."

"Tell me, Kathryn, does the Starfleet you serve today seem to be the kind of organization that would do that?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Then perhaps it was a unique situation that required a unique solution. Is there any other reason you hesitate?"

Janeway laughed. "Not a one. But I think there's a little part of me that still resents what Chakotay did. I need to be able to trust my First Officer completely and he may have ruined that for me. Frankly, I wonder if McDeere doesn't deserve better."

Seven snuggled against her and pulled her close. "Kathryn, your loyalty to your officers and crew is what makes you the outstanding commander you are. Don't you think that Lieutenant McDeere deserves to serve under an officer like that? It certainly appears that she had to serve under one who was…insufficient."

Janeway dropped a quick kiss on her spouse's lips. "You're right again. Let me go relay my decision to Admiral Nechayev so there isn't any more delay than necessary. I want to get McDeere out of Supply as fast as I can. She certainly deserves better than _that_." She gently disengaged herself from Seven's arms and got out of bed. When she did she saw a PADD lying on the nightstand beside her wife. "Speaking of appeal fading, is that some of _your_ work?" She pointed at the offending PADD.

Seven had the good grace to blush. "I did not want you to feel badly if you had more work to do so I brought a PADD with me to keep you company."

Laughing, Janeway turned for the den and the COMM unit. "When I get back I promise you that _work_ will be the last thing on my mind."

She reached to power up the COMM console as she sank into her desk chair. Keying in her security codes she began to record a message for transmission to Admiral Nechayev but as soon as the recipient had been specified she found herself facing the older woman on the screen.

"Admiral, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was going to record a message for you."

"That's all right, Captain. I'm frequently in the office this late. What did you want to tell me?"

"I've decided on my new First Officer. I'd like to have Jordan McDeere assigned to _**Boudicca**_ as my Exec."

The normally stern-faced Nechayev actually smiled at the news. "Are you certain, Kathryn? Nothing would please me more than to have McDeere back on a starship under a solid CO, but are you satisfied that she's the officer you require?"

"Yes she is, Admiral. I've given it a lot of thought and I've talked to some people. I don't understand how Starfleet could have treated her that way, but I wasn't here for the war so I can't judge what was necessary then. She's got some spunk left and her record speaks for itself. Yes, Admiral; she's the First Officer I want."

Nechayev didn't speak for a moment. When she finally did she looked at Janeway with what seemed like pain in her eyes. "I have regrets about that incident that I will carry to my grave. I'll be very happy to reinstate Jordan immediately. You'll have your new Exec by tomorrow afternoon, Captain. Was there anything else?"

"No, Admiral. The official request is on its way to you now. I'll make sure there's an office ready for her in the morning. I think we'll go tour our new command in the afternoon. Thank you, ma'am."

"You're very welcome, Captain." The older woman hesitated a moment. "Please give my regards to your wife. Your wedding was a memorable evening on many levels."

Janeway chuckled and grinned. "She'll be delighted you enjoyed yourself, Admiral. I must say, you catching a garter rates as one of the high points of that night for me."

Nechayev's eyebrows went up and she commented dryly, "Captain, if one old woman catching a piece of fabric was a high point of your wedding night then Seven of Nine has lower expectations than I've given her credit for. She and I may need to talk."

Janeway's eyes widened at the comment and then she burst into laughter. "I'll be sure to pass that along, Admiral. Seven will enjoy it. Have a good night, ma'am."

"Good night, Captain. And thank you for moving so quickly on getting your senior staff filled out. We've got a lot to accomplish in a short time period. I'll talk with you later in the week. Good night, Kathryn."

When the screen in front of her went dark Janeway leaned back in her chair and thought about the strange conversation. Not only had Nechayev not been her usual all-business self, but she had seemed genuinely concerned for McDeere's welfare. _And_ she had said something positive about Seven of Nine. Would wonders never cease?

Standing up and stretching she turned off the console and lights and went back to bed with her wife.

The workstation screen glowed brightly in the dimmed lighting.

"Are we secure?" asked the Admiral.

"It's still a bit early for everyone else. We shouldn't be disturbed," said the officer.

"Do you have news for me?" the distinguished-looking Admiral asked.

"Captain Janeway paid a visit to Logistics and Supply yesterday afternoon. From the look on her face as she exited the offices she was satisfied with the interview." The officer's face was inscrutable in the glow of the screen. "I don't know anything definite beyond that."

"Did she do what we expected?"

"Pretty much. I don't know if our plan will succeed though."

"Do you need help?"

"Not yet; she seemed to be moving quickly, but there's still time if we need to do something more. I think…" The door to the office flew open and Nixon and DiCampo stormed through.

"McDeere, I want to know what the hell's going on here! Are you taking bribes on the _**Voyager**_ refit?" demanded Nixon. DiCampo just stood behind him smiling evilly.

McDeere looked at her COMM screen with a resigned sigh "Admiral Pulaski, I'll have to call you back later. My CO is here with some questions on the _**Voyager**_ refit. McDeere out." She turned to face the officers. "What was your question, Commander?"

"Are you taking kickbacks on the _**Voyager**_ refit?"

"Absolutely not, sir."

"Then explain the 'EXPEDITE' priorities on these requisitions the morning after I see Captain Janeway locked in your office for over an hour. Tell me why the requisitions don't go through normal departmental procedures before they're filled and why you're handling them personally and directly. I'm going to have your logs audited and if I find _one_ requisition miscoded I'm going to bring you up on charges!"

McDeere sighed heavily and handed him the PADD she'd downloaded the day before. "Sir, here are the priorities I've been using as guidelines. Based on the remarks from Admiral Nechayev I assumed that _**Voyager**_ was a priority for everyone, not just Starfleet Operations. So I took the initiative and have been handling the requisitions personally."

"You know that's not how I want things done around here!" snarled Nixon. "Lieutenant DiCampo tells me that this has been going on since nearly the first day we opened those requisition logs." DiCampo allowed a gleam of triumph to show in his eyes at this.

"Sir, I can only reiterate what I said earlier. You told Captain Janeway that we would help in any way we could and when I read Admiral Nechayev's memo I thought that was what you'd want. Apparently, Lieutenant DiCampo feels otherwise or he wouldn't be digging through my personal files looking for something that isn't there."

"This whole thing looks suspicious to me. I think I should call in Security to investigate and then…"

McDeere's COMM chirped with an incoming hail. She gave Nixon a noncommittal look and turned to the screen beside her.

"Admiral Nechayev! Good morning, ma'am."

"Good morning, Lieutenant. I have some good news for you. Effective this stardate at 0700 hours you are reinstated to the rank of Commander and assigned as First Officer of the _**USS Boudicca**_. Captain Janeway is expecting you to report yet this morning or by noon at the latest. I believe she has an inspection tour of _**Boudicca **_planned for the two of you. Will that present any problems for you?"

Relief washed through McDeere like a tidal surge. "No problem at all, Admiral."

"Will I need to notify your current CO or can you do that?"

"Not necessary, Admiral, he's standing right here and heard every word."

"Commander Nixon?" The man sidled around McDeere's desk so that he was visible on the COMM screen.

"Yes, Admiral?"

"I apologize for the speed of this reassignment, but McDeere is critical to a top priority mission and needs to get up to speed. Paperwork authorizing her promotion and transfer is on the way to you now. I hope it doesn't leave your department shorthanded."

Nixon gulped. "We'll manage, Admiral."

McDeere glanced over the screen at DiCampo and grinned at the look of fear and disappointment she saw there.

Nechayev nodded to the L&S CO. "I'm sure you will, Mr. Nixon. Jordan?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I can't tell you how pleased I am about this. It's been too long since you were on the bridge of starship where you belong. I assume you're taking this call in your office?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm at my desk. Is that important in some way?"

Nechayev smiled. "Yes, as a matter of fact it is. I have a small gift for you." She gestured to someone off screen and a moment later transporter ions began to sparkle over the center of the desk. When they solidified a red command under tunic and a small velvet box rested there. Jordan reached out for the box with a hand that shook just a bit. She opened it to reveal the three gold pips of a full Commander.

"Congratulations, Commander. As I said, this has been too long in coming. If you encounter any…difficulties…in your transfer just call my office."

"Thank you, Admiral. I will."

The Admiral smiled again. "I'd wish you good luck, Commander, but you don't need it. You're going out on a fine ship with an outstanding CO and a strong senior staff and crew. Take good care of them for us, won't you?"

"I'll do my best, Admiral."

"Nechayev, out." The glowing screen went blank as Nixon and DiCampo stared mutely at her. Deliberately, so they wouldn't miss any of her actions, she pinned the three pips to the red under tunic and when she finished, picked it up.

"If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm slightly out of uniform." They stood there, frozen, unable to comprehend what had just transpired. "Gentlemen, _dismissed!_" she barked, the whip of command in her voice shaking them out of their daze. "That means get out of my office…_now!_"

Nixon's mouth moved like he wanted to say something, but DiCampo had the presence of mind to nudge him toward the door and get him moving. Without uttering another sound the two men left the office, the door sliding shut behind them.

Finally allowing her relief to show Jordan sighed deeply and leaned on her desk, hands shaking. Her personal nightmare was finally over. Standing, she removed her tunic and gold under tunic and literally donned the mantle of command. She pulled her tunic back on, made sure she was squared away and sat back down. Then, changing her mind, she stood again, and walked into the department anteroom.

"Ensign Chase, I'll need a medium-sized packing container ASAP."

The unit clerk's eyes bugged out at McDeere's new uniform and rank. "I-I, yes sir!"

McDeere's eyes twinkled with merriment as she replied, "I prefer Commander… ma'am in a crunch. But I'll tell you when it's crunch time." She turned to face Nixon and DiCampo who were still somewhat dazed from the turn of events. "Gentlemen, I have a couple of things to take care of, but I'll want to discuss the _**Voyager**_ refit with you before I leave. Keep your schedules open in, say, one hour?" She raised an eyebrow in question and waited for a reply.

"Okay…one hour," replied Nixon.

After three years of Nixon's tyranny she just couldn't resist. "'Okay, one hour'…_what?_"

"Okay, one hour…Commander." Nixon looked like he'd just swallowed something rancid.

"Very good, Lieutenant Commander. As you were." Jordan turned and walked back into her office with a bounce in her step.

Sealing the door she once again sat at her desk and activated her COMM screen. When it came to life and Kate Pulaski's grinning face appeared on her screen she couldn't help smiling in return.

"Well, I see that all our scheming has borne fruit. I just got a memo from Alynna Nechayev about your reinstatement and assignment; I think she sent it to everyone above the rank of Ensign in Starfleet. How'd you get into uniform so quickly?"

"Admiral Nechayev beamed the command under tunic and a set of pips to me before she signed off. Right after she gave me the news."

"I think that was Admiral Nechayev was atoning for some old sins. You must have impressed Kathryn for her to move that quickly to have you assigned to her command. I'm glad we didn't have to try and get Seven to work on her."

"You know I was never comfortable with that, Admiral."

"Jordan, we've been working toward this for too long. You've put in a lot of hours getting back into shape and keeping your command credentials current. We can't undo what they did to you three years ago, but we got you onto the newest ship in the 'fleet under one of its best COs. That will have to do. And I would have used the devil himself if it helped get you back where you belong."

"Admiral, I know I haven't said this enough, but thank you for everything you've done for me. I don't think I would have made it through all this without you."

Pulaski laughed. "Not to worry, Jordan. I'll be shipping out with you all. Kathryn was most persuasive. And I agreed to go with her fleet if she'd take a look at you for first Officer."

"Admiral! You shouldn't have done that! I know how you hate space travel. I don't want you to have to…"

"Relax, Jordan. If I weren't perfectly willing to ship out with Kathryn I never would have made the offer. I've been feeling a touch bored lately anyway. A cruise to the Delta quadrant may be just what I need." Both women laughed.

Grinning, McDeere agreed. "Yes, ma'am. I feel the same way. I need to get moving, though. It seems that Captain Janeway is expecting me to report by noon. Right now I need to pack my office and terrorize Nixon and DiCampo into doing right by the _**Voyager**_ refit before I leave."

"I know you're busy. We'll get together for dinner when you're settled in your new billet. You can tell me funny stories about Kathryn so I can embarrass her with them when we sail. Thanks for taking the time to let me know. I'm proud of you, Jordan."

"Thank you, Admiral. I'll call you soon." She signed off just as her door chimed. "Enter!"

Ensign Chase walked in carrying a transport container. "Thank you, Ensign. Once I get my things packed I'll want you to have this transported to Captain Janeway's offices at the shipyards. Will that be a problem?"

"No, Commander. I…pardon me, ma'am but, congratulations on your reassignment."

"Thank you, Ensign. Would you please tell Lieutenant Commander Nixon and Lieutenant DiCampo that I'll meet with them in fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, Commander."

"That'll be all, Ensign."

McDeere began to go through her desk drawers and packed her few personal possessions. Supply had always felt like exile to her, and even though she had buried herself away there, she had never brought many personal items into her office. When she'd finished she encrypted her private logs and dumped her project logs to Ensign Chase's workstation. Then she rose, tugged her tunic down and strode into the anteroom.

"Ensign Chase, that container is ready for transport. Tag it with my ID and forward it to Captain Janeway's office suite." When the young ensign leapt to get the container McDeere strolled to the door of Nixon's office.

"Do you have a few minutes for me, Commander?" she asked politely.

"Yes …Commander. Let's get this over with," snapped Nixon.

"Why don't you invite Lieutenant DiCampo to join us? That way I'll only have to review my projects once." Nixon paged DiCampo and the younger man quickly entered the office. McDeere regarded them gravely.

"I'll make this quick, gentlemen. I don't think any of us want to prolong my stay here. I've transferred all my project logs to Ensign Chase's workstation; you can reassign them as you see fit. And now we're going to talk about _**Voyager**_." McDeere hadn't needed her command glare very often but she had one almost as good as Janeway's. She favored the two men in front of her with it now.

"The _**Voyager**_ refit will proceed as it always has. Requisitions for _**Voyager**_ will be processed _immediately_ and referred to 'premium' suppliers without regard to what the requisition calls for. There will be no delays in processing the requisitions and every single one will be assigned top priority. Is that clear?"

"That's not the standard procedure in this office!" protested DiCampo.

Jordan silenced him with a glance. "I don't particularly care about the standard procedure of this office, Lieutenant. I'm telling you how it's going to go. And since all those requisitions will originate in the office I'll be working in, I'm going to know about each and every one of them. And if I find one discrepancy – if one requisition isn't filled on time - I'm going to Admiral Nechayev and instigate an investigation of the _**Thompson**_ refit. Am I making myself clear, Mr. Nixon?"

DiCampo looked confused but Nixon blanched at the mention of that particular job. Apparently he hadn't covered his tracks as well as he thought he had. He wondered how much McDeere knew, but realized that even if she only knew a little it might be enough to scuttle his career and land him in a penal colony.

"Crystal clear, Commander. _**Voyager**_ will get the best we've got, I promise."

She eyed him for a moment longer. "Then our business here is over. I'd say it's been a pleasure working with you both but we all know that isn't true. So just let me say goodbye and good luck to both of you." Without waiting for a reply she rose, turned and walked out of the offices.

"Good morning, Radcliffe. How are you this morning?"

"Just fine, Captain. And you?"

"Fit as a fiddle and ready for anything, Ensign. Is Lieutenant Torres in yet?"

"She called in a few minutes ago, Captain. There was a small logistics problem with Miral's day care this morning and she's running late. She said she'll be here around lunch time."

Janeway laughed. "A 'small logistics problem'? I don't think I _want_ to know what that was. Have her come see me when she gets in, will you? Oh, and Radcliffe, did Seven bring anything personal into the office? If she did move whatever it is to my office, will you? She can work out of my office if she needs to until she gets assigned here permanently. We'll need that office for my new Exec."

Radcliffe handed her a mug of fresh coffee and asked, "Your new Exec? You decided on a new First Officer? Who is it?" Radcliffe's dealings with her former First Officer had been less than inspiring and Janeway could understand why he seemed excited.

"Commander Jordan McDeere will be joining us as the First Officer of our merry band of miscreants, Ensign."

"_Commander_ McDeere? Is that the same…I know of a _Lieutenant_ McDeere in Supply…do you mean her?"

"That's the one, Ethan. She was a Commander and First Officer during the War." Janeway decided to temper the facts a bit for her young aide. "She ran into some problems and was badly wounded. They sent her to Supply to heal. But she's back on her feet and will be joining us. I believe she's another Earl Grey lover. Take care of her office and whatever, will you?"

"Gladly, Captain. And I'll send Lieutenant Torres in to your office when she arrives. I'm supposed to remind you that your wife is coming in today to help the lieutenant with the removal and storage of the Borg alcoves. She'll try to arrive so you can lunch together and I've been told that you're not to leave the office without her tonight."

Janeway laughed. "This is _not_ a good sign, Ethan. We haven't been married two weeks and already she's bossing me around through you. Am I going to be managed this way from now on?"

"Very probably, Captain," he replied with a straight face. "Dr. Hansen is _extremely_ persuasive."

"I'll behave, Ethan. Take care of those things, will you? Oh, and have Commander McDeere stop by my office when she arrives."

"Yes, Captain. There's a note from Captain Picard for you; I transferred it to your workstation."

She nodded as their eyes met, then headed for her office. "Thank you, Ensign."

The physical distance from Supply to Janeway's office suite wasn't that great, but the symbolic distance was light years. Every step she took away from L&S made her feel as if weight was falling from her shoulders. By the time she stepped off the lift on the floor of her new offices there was a distinct spring in her step. When she walked into the anteroom and looked at Radcliffe she was positively buoyant.

"Good morning, Ensign. I'm Commander McDeere reporting in," she said with a wide grin.

His answering grin was no smaller. "Welcome aboard, Commander. I have your office ready and your personal effects are in there, but Captain Janeway asked that you stop by her office when you reported in. If you'll follow me?"

Radcliffe stepped around his desk and walked to the corridor behind the anteroom. Stepping to the door of Janeway's office he announced "Captain, I have Commander McDeere for you."

As Janeway waved her new Exec in Radcliffe asked, "How's the coffee, Captain?"

"Looks like I could use a refill, Ensign. Get something for Commander McDeere too, would you?"

"Yes, Captain." He stepped into the room and grabbed one of the thermal mugs from _**Voyager**_ then walked out to the workroom leaving the two women alone.

"Have a seat, Commander. I must say red looks better on you than gold did. So does the extra hardware."

"Thank you, Captain, thank you for everything."

"Not necessary, McDeere. I have to give Kate Pulaski the credit; she was right. You _are_ a good fit here. And then there's the added benefit of having her come along with us. I'm not naïve enough to think you haven't heard that _something_ major is going on; how much do you know about our mission?"

"Just the scuttlebutt, Captain. Rumors about the Borg and how you got _**Voyager**_ back home. I know there's a whole ward at Starfleet Medical that's been declared off limits without a level ten security clearance and that there's an alien ship in the security bay of McKinley Station. Beyond that, nothing concrete."

Radcliffe entered at that point and handed each woman a steaming mug. McDeere took an appreciative sip and her eyes widened. "My God, are the drinks _always_ this good around here?"

"Ensign Radcliffe takes great pride in his skills as a barista. I never thought I'd enjoy having an aide, but I must say he brings many talents to the job. Thank you, Ethan, that will be all." The young officer nodded and took his leave.

"So, do you want the long version or the short version, Commander?"

"How about the long version unless you have something pressing? I certainly don't yet."

Janeway leaned back in her chair and told McDeere the whole story of _**Voyager's **_dealings with the Borg and their return to the Alpha quadrant, including the parts deemed in violation of the Temporal Prime Directive. When she finished McDeere just shook her head.

"Remind me to punch out the next snot-nosed Lieutenant JG who snipes that you all had it easy during the War. You may not have been in combat here, but you sure were out there. That must have been an amazing mission. So, you got your ship and crew home. Okay, now how does that tie in with current events?"

"Twenty-four days ago at approximately 1845 hours, a Borg tactical probe emerged from a transwarp conduit in the vicinity of DS7. Drones did not man it, however. Members of the Free Borg – former drones freed from the Collective when we destroyed the link to Unimatrix Zero, manned it. They have been fighting a civil war within the Collective ever since. Our 'getaway' from the Delta quadrant caused major upheaval within the Collective and they have been solidifying their position in the aftermath. But lately, they've discovered data that indicates the Collective has a new Queen and is planning a major incursion against Earth within eighteen months. We've been tasked to stop them."

Jordan considered the information for a minute then commented, "Okay, now I _know _there's something you haven't told me. There's no way we can get a fleet into the Delta quadrant in a year and a half and we don't have the weapons to stop the Borg if we could. So what is it I don't know yet?"

"Commander, you were just reinstated this morning. How willing would you be to join me in barratry and risk a long stay in a penal colony?"

"Barratry? No problem, Captain. I've already been court-martialed for mutiny; how bad could it be? What do I need to know?"

"My wife is a couple of weeks away from presenting the TPG and Starfleet with an enhanced processor and deflector interface fast enough to form, access and control a slipstream corridor."

McDeere's eyes popped. "A quantum slipstream drive? You're kidding! TPG has been trying to develop one for years. Seven of … Dr. Hansen's done it?"

"They're in beta testing now trying to get it to fail. So far the processor has performed flawlessly. And there's more: Seven was the officer tasked with installing the contraband armor and weapons that Admiral Janeway brought back with her. She has their schematics stored in her cortical node."

"Let me guess; those would be the same schematics that the Department of Temporal Affairs have declared in violation of their Prime Directive and destroyed. Right?"

"Astute and correct, Commander. Since Seven can download the schematics, we're going to try and install as much as we can during the slipstream drive refits for the fleet we're sending to the Delta quadrant. The problem is, I'm not sure if we'll be doing it with Starfleet's approval or not. That could prove problematic for career longevity. Captains Picard and Riker are in collusion with me, but if you want out I'll certainly understand."

"Any starship captain worth their pips would take every advantage they could get going up against the Borg. It would be criminally negligent not to. I'm in. But please tell me that you have _someone_ working on getting Starfleet to go along with the idea."

"We do, and the closer we get to sailing I think the easier it will be. In the mean time, Captains Picard and Riker communicate about our little scheme via encrypted messages hidden in routine correspondence. Ethan decodes them and destroys the data trail."

"Then I'd better spend some time with him learning the encryption protocols. I'll probably be able to help out with material acquisition for the stealth refit installations. Is there anything else?"

"I'm going to introduce you to Lieutenant Torres our Chief Engineer when she gets in but she's running a bit late today. She and my wife will be overseeing the removal and storage of the Borg alcoves on _**Voyager**_ this afternoon. You and I will take a preliminary survey tour of _**Boudicca**_ while they do. But right now we need to make sure the documentation for your reassignment is completed and then grab some lunch. Shall we?" She stood and gestured toward the door.

Seven of Nine arrived promptly at 1130 hours. Radcliffe was at his usual post in the anteroom of the suite working with Commander McDeere to complete the paperwork for her transfer.

"Good afternoon, Ensign. I am here to work on the Borg alcoves with Lieutenant Torres."

Radcliffe grinned at her. "Yes, ma'am. Welcome back. Do you know our new First Officer? This is Commander McDeere. She just came on board this morning. Commander, this is Seven of Nine…errr, Dr. Hansen, Captain Janeway's wife."

Jordan stuck out her hand and smiled. "Radcliffe's told me a lot about you, Dr. Hansen. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Seven returned the smile and shook the outstretched hand. "Please call me Seven. As Kathryn's new First Officer I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"I look forward to it." She turned her attention to back to Ethan. "Is that it then? We've finally waded through the morass of paper necessary to get me transferred?"

"I think so. If there's anything else I'll come get you. Is that okay?"

"That'll work, Ensign. Thank you. Seven, if you'll excuse me for just a moment?" Nodding to Seven, McDeere headed back to her office to unpack.

"So Seven, did you enjoy your honeymoon?" As much as Radcliffe wanted to talk with Seven, he felt a bit uncomfortable calling her by her first name now that she was the captain's wife.

"Very much, Ensign. But it is good to be home again as well."

"Will you be coming to work with us on the fleet refit?"

"That has yet to be determined. But we are working on it."

"I'm glad, ma'am. It's not the same without you here. The captain is in her office. She's expecting you. Go right in."

A couple of minutes later Janeway and Seven claimed McDeere and the three women adjourned to the Officers' Club for lunch. To Jordan's immense surprise and hidden delight several officers stopped by their table to congratulate her on her new posting. Seven gave Janeway a pleased look that indicated McDeere had just been adopted into the _**Voyager**_ family.

When they returned to the office B'Elanna had arrived and was introduced to McDeere. Not surprisingly the women liked each other on sight. The four of them chatted for a moment and then Janeway and McDeere excused themselves to take a conference call before taking their survey tour.

"C'mon down to the office, Seven and we'll talk. I've been waiting for you."

'Waiting for you' was a bit inaccurate as B'Elanna pounced on Seven like a targ on a wounded su'codak the moment the former drone entered her office.

"Am I glad you're back! You look great. Fantastic tan. So how was the honeymoon? Married life agreeing with you? Can the captain still walk?"

"The honeymoon was fine. And of course Kathryn can walk. Why would she lose her locomotor ability on our honeymoon?"

"You know…Too much time doing the nasty." Torres elbowed her jovially in the ribs forgetting for a moment that they were duranium-reinforced. "Oww, dammit! C'mon Seven. Spill!" she said, rubbing her elbow.

"For what possible purpose? B'Elanna, the captain and I were living together prior to our marriage and not, I assure you, platonically. Why would our honeymoon be any different?"

"Oh please! Hot tropical nights, the trade winds, moonlight on the ocean. You can't tell me those things didn't fire up the captain's libido. She's not dead!"

Seven gave a long-suffering sigh. "B'Elanna, are you ready to go up to _**Voyager?**_ They are expecting us. We can have this conversation walking to the Transport Center, can we not?" They headed out of the office, nodding to Radcliffe as they left.

"Oh c'mon, Seven! Who was it that reconfigured your portable regeneration unit so that you could recuperate in Indiana? If I hadn't been able to do that you wouldn't even _be_ married to the captain. So who else are you going to talk about your sex life with but me? Dish woman, dish! I want details!"

The slight arched elevation of Seven's optical array was the only indication of her possible annoyance at B'Elanna's continued probing for details of their honeymoon. "We went to a secluded house in the mountains of St. Lucia. We spent many hours lying by the pool enjoying the tropical sunshine. What more detail do you require?" They were discussing Seven's natural reticence and failings as a best friend when B'Elanna's COMM badge chirped.

"Radcliffe to Lieutenant Torres."

"Torres here, Ensign. What's up?"

"You wanted me to remind you about the halogenic power couplings Chief O'Brien developed."

"Roger that, Radcliffe. Thank you." Torres slapped half-heartedly at her badge as she again needled Seven. "Okay, but you can't tell me that the captain's little white tuchas isn't cute against the tan on her back."

"White tuchas? Tan? To what are you referring, B'Elanna?"

"Her tan lines, Seven. Her tan lines."

The optical array climbed to an even higher arch in amusement. "B'Elanna, we have no _tan lines_."

Sudden silence from the waiting area sent Jordan into the anteroom to investigate. She found Radcliffe sitting absolutely still and staring into space.

"Ethan, are you all right?" She gently shook his shoulder to get his attention. He could only stare at her in a daze. Jordan began to get alarmed.

"Radcliffe! Talk to me! Are you okay?"

"No tan lines…" he gasped. There was a moment of silence and then his COMM badge emitted the slightly tinny voice of Seven of Nine.

"You failed to close the COMM link, B'Elanna…"

1


	13. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

"I'll be damned!" Admiral Paris fell back in his chair in amazement. With an effort he pulled his gaze back to the woman on his COMM screen. "Dr. Pedersen, I don't mean to impugn your word, but are you absolutely certain? What you're telling me has far-reaching implications for not only Starfleet but the entire Federation as well."

"We're as certain as we can be, Admiral. We've had the processor up and running at 120% nominal for over three weeks and haven't been able to get so much as a twitch in the data streams. We've thrown every type of radiation and thermal variances at it, even simulated a plasma spill and the processor has worked above expectations. Coupled with the deflector interface enhancements everything we need to build a prototype is ready. I held off notifying Starfleet just to make sure that I wasn't going to get everyone's hopes up for another false alarm. Admiral, we've got it. For the first time a working slipstream drive is possible."

"I still can't believe it. We've worked so long on faster-than-warp technology and every time we've failed utterly. And now, out of the blue, after just a couple of months, you're telling me that Dr. Hansen has developed precisely what we've been missing to make the drive work. Forgive me if I'm a bit stunned."

"We're all stunned, Admiral. When she came to me and told me that she had the processor and deflector interfaces working you could have knocked me over with a feather. But I went to her lab and I watched the simulations and I've overseen the beta testing and the processor speeds are solid. She's really done it."

"All right, Dr. Pedersen. I'll notify our TPG and we'll develop some joint testing protocols and go from there. I'm assuming that a representative of our TPG won't have any security problems at your facility?"

"Just let us know who's coming and they'll have full access, Admiral. Our aim has always been to cooperate with Starfleet in the development of the drive. You know as well as I do that Dr. Hansen has a personal interest in the drive's success. It's been the single biggest motivating factor in her research. In fact, she's most eager to get started on a prototype. I'm sure you can understand."

"Only too well. Thank you for notifying us so quickly. I'll be back in touch fairly soon with details about the joint testing. And if I forgot to say it earlier, on behalf of Starfleet, congratulations on an amazing accomplishment. Please extend those congratulations to Dr. Hansen as well."

"I will, Admiral. And we'll be looking forward to hearing from TPG. Good bye."

Disconnecting the COMM link, Paris leaned back again and stared out his window at the morning sun sparkling on the waters of San Francisco Bay. Seven of Nine had done it. Two months at MIT-Daystrom and she'd built the processor and deflector interfaces they'd needed to control a stable slipstream corridor. But the politics! The Federation Council had adamantly refused to allow Seven to work on Starfleet projects in spite of the arguments of most of the Fleet Admiralty. Even Admiral Quinn's succinct arguments had failed to sway them. And now she'd gone ahead in a civilian facility and developed what Starfleet should have developed in-house. The only bright point in all of it was that Seven was willing to build the prototype in conjunction with Starfleet. Not even the most obdurate politicians could deny that. She could have contracted with a civilian shipyard to build her prototype. The financial rewards of doing so would have been staggering. The effect of her breakthrough would touch every part of the quadrant – no, the galaxy. Because of it, Starfleet vessels would now be able to journey to the farthest reaches of the galaxy and return in days instead of decades and in fairly short order so would civilian ships.

Shaking his head he swung back to his terminal and began writing the memo that would turn Starfleet on its ear the moment he sent it.

* * *

An hour and a half later, a distinguished looking middle aged woman presented herself at the reception desk of MIT-Daystrom and introduced herself in a clipped voice as she presented her Starfleet credentials.

"Leah Brahms to see Dr. Annika Hansen."

The stunned receptionist nodded and hit the COMM button for the Director's office.

"Dr. Pedersen? I have Dr. Brahms from TPG here to see Dr. Hansen. I'm updating her security clearances now."

"I'll be there in a minute."

As the receptionist handed Dr. Brahms her updated security passes moments later Dr. Pedersen appeared and greeted her warmly.

"Leah, it's good to see you again."

"Gaeka, how have you been? I understand your Dr. Hansen has made the breakthrough we've all been working on. Which way is her lab?"

Pedersen chuckled. "You never did enjoy small talk, did you? Yes, I believe she has something you'll be _very_ interested in. Come along and I'll introduce you."

Several minutes later, Seven's lab assistants were standing frozen in place as Drs. Pedersen and Brahms swept into the lab and greeted Seven.

"So, I understand you've got the processor and deflector interfaces we need to make a slipstream drive work. What were the tolerances you used in your preliminary testing?"

"Our goal was an extended test protocol at 105% of projected tolerances. We have since extended that to over 126.83% of the original projections with no failure in interface or processing rate. The datastream remained stable even at the higher stress levels."

"What were the external variables applied during the extended test protocols?"

"I have the complete logs of the protocols in my office. You may review them there."

"I will. Dismiss your lab assistants. I'll want to recreate the testing without any outside interference." Without another word, Brahms strode into the office.

Seven nodded at her lab staff and pointed to the doorway. "Secure the lab when you leave. I'll contact you when we have finished." Nodding her thanks to Dr. Pedersen, she followed Dr. Brahms to her workstation.

Six hours later Pedersen's assistant buzzed her COMM link in a panic.

"I don't know what to do. I have Admirals Paris and Patterson trying to contact Dr. Brahms and Captain Janeway trying to contact Dr. Hansen and neither of them is responding. In fact, they've programmed the COMM system to forward all their calls to our office! What do you want me to do with them?"

Knowing how total Leah Brahms's focus could be once she began research, she told her assistant to put the calls through. _Apparently, Seven of Nine has the same complete focus on the task at hand. The two of them together will either astound the galaxy with their discoveries or kill each other in short order_. _I wonder if I should send some sort of food in to them. Would they even notice if I did?_ Chuckling, she turned to her COMM unit.

"Good evening, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"

Owen Paris spoke first. "Is Dr Brahms there? According to her office, she just disappeared mid-morning and nobody has seen her since."

"Yes, Admiral, she's here. She and Dr. Hansen have been locked in Dr. Hansen's lab all day running test protocols of the new processor and interface. I was just contemplating if I ought to have some food delivered to the lab in the hopes of getting them to eat something."

"I don't suppose you have any idea when they'll finish up?"

"Not a clue, Admiral. But knowing Leah as I do, it won't be until she is absolutely satisfied of the processor's solidity or she gets it to crash."

"So what do you think would be the best way for us to monitor the testing?"

"You're welcome to come out here. If need be, you can sleep on the second sofa in my office."

Paris laughed at her comment. "The _second_ sofa?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be sleeping on the first one. No way in hell am I going home with Leah Brahms and Annika Hansen locked up together in one of my labs testing the single biggest advance in propulsion since Zefram Cochrane fired up _**The Phoenix**_. I'll be here until they either walk out and announce that it works or blow up the lab. You're welcome to wait with me."

Admiral Patterson cut in and asked if there was another sofa nearby before they agreed to meet Pedersen at the Institute in time for dinner. She ended the call and hailed her assistant.

"Is Captain Janeway still trying to reach Dr. Hansen? Put her through, then. Captain? Hello! I'm sorry, but your wife is locked in her lab with Leah Brahms testing the new processor. No, I haven't any idea how long they'll be. Well, Admirals Paris and Patterson are coming in to wait with me; there's a wonderful seafood place not far from here where we're going for dinner. If you can make it by 1830 hours, why don't you join us? Fine. I'll expect you then."

Chuckling at the thought of the Starfleet invasion that was coming, she went back to work before a sudden thought brought her up short. Hailing her assistant, she requested that representatives from their legal department meet with her immediately.

* * *

_These tolerances just can't be tweaked any further. That's it; I have officially failed in my duty to provide the sensor warning we'll need if the Borg manage to get themselves organized enough to invade. God, I hope Kathryn and Seven weren't exaggerating when they told me what they'd done on __**Voyager**__. If they were we're in big trouble._ Elizabeth Shelby shook her head in frustration and gave one more fruitless effort to tighten the sensor tolerances. Once again they failed. Not that it came as a surprise at this point.

Swiveling around in her desk chair, she gazed unseeing at the vista of San Francisco Bay laid out before her. Her mind roiled with data, test protocols, holographic parameters and visions of Borg cubes materializing around Earth. Finally she reached a decision and tapped her COMM badge.

"Shelby to Admiral Nechayev."

"Nechayev here, Commander."

"Admiral, I know it's late, but would you have a few moments to meet with me?"

"Of course, Commander. Come right up."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"Nechayev out."

Shelby gathered her data PADDS, squared her shoulders and walked out of her office to admit her failures to the Starfleet operations commander of the Terran sector. What happened after she did could affect many millions of lives. Arriving at Nechayev's office suite she announced herself to the Admiral's aide and was shown into the office.

"Good evening, Admiral. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Not at all, Commander. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to go over some of the preliminary test data on the sensor net arrays." She handed the older woman a PADD and settled back in her seat while it was read and absorbed.

"So, we haven't had much luck yet. What's our next move?" inquired the Admiral after finishing the data logs.

Shelby shifted uneasily in her chair. What she said now could well mean the end of not only her career but of many other notable ones as well. Not to mention the distinct possibility of a long stay in a penal colony. She was saved from self-incrimination by Nechayev's quiet voice.

"It's never going to work, is it, Elizabeth?"

She gave a deep sigh before she responded. "No, Admiral, it isn't. I've configured the array in every conceivable way and we still won't get the warning we need. We're defenseless against a Borg incursion. And unless something changes very quickly, we'll remain so. Our technology just isn't up to the job."

Nechayev leaned back in her chair and gazed up at the ceiling, contemplating her next words carefully. "So, we've exhausted every official protocol and we still can't protect the quadrant from the Borg. Are there any… _unofficial_… protocols that you're aware of we might utilize?"

This was it. The moment of truth. "There might be. I've been reliably informed that some… non-traditional means… might be successful where we haven't been."

"'Non-traditional means'? Don't fence with me, Elizabeth. What's Janeway got up her sleeve?"

"Seven of Nine, Admiral. Her enhancements to their sensor array on _**Voyager**_ allowed them to literally dial in on Borg power signatures sectors ahead. Her algorithms allowed them to scan ahead and safely traverse the Delta quadrant and her shield enhancements allowed them to defend themselves against the Borg. I know the Federation Council isn't thrilled with the idea of her working for Starfleet, but Admiral, she may be the only means we have of defending ourselves."

Nechayev rubbed her forehead and frowned mightily. "God, I never dreamed I'd ask a Borg for help defending the quadrant. But she's proven herself enough for Janeway to lay her career on the line for her. I suppose that should tell me what I need to know."

"Admiral, Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine can explain things far better than I can. Why don't I send for them?"

Nechayev laughed bitterly and handed Shelby a half sheet of paper. "This communiqué just arrived from Cambridge. Drs. Annika Hansen and Leah Brahms are currently testing a new processor and deflector array interface which will allow Starfleet to build it's first quantum slipstream drive. Paris and Patterson are on site waiting for final results. Your Seven of Nine won't be available for a while."

"I'd think that if Seven was working in her lab that Captain Janeway would be available. Why don't I hail her and ask?"

"By all means, Elizabeth. Get her here. We need help and we're running out of time."

* * *

"Captain Janeway and Commander McDeere to see Dr. Pedersen."

"Of course, Captain, Commander. If you'll follow me please?" The security guard at the reception desk escorted them to the Director's office suite and left them in the care of the assistant seated there. She promptly ushered them into the Director's office where Admirals Patterson and Paris and Dr. Pedersen were chatting.

"Ah! Captain Janeway. You made good time. Our reservation isn't for half an hour yet."

"Dr. Pedersen, Admirals; it's good to see you again. May I introduce my First Officer, Commander Jordan McDeere?"

"I remember Commander McDeere quite well. Although I believe, it was _Ensign_ McDeere back then. Plasma Dynamics, wasn't it? You and another doctoral candidate just couldn't take our word for it that anti-matter containment tolerances were that tight," commented Dr. Pedersen.

McDeere blushed furiously as both Admirals and her commanding officer looked at her questioningly. "Well, at least we only blew out the storage locker. Jonathan had _wanted_ to try it in the full lab." Laughter echoed around the office as the others gathered coats and prepared to leave for the restaurant. McDeere and Pedersen spoke of mutual friends as Paris and Patterson had a quiet word aside with Captain Janeway.

"Good choice with McDeere, Kathryn. She's long overdue to get back into the Fleet."

"She's a good fit, sir, and I'm glad to have her. So, has there been any word from our lab rats?"

"Dr. Pedersen beamed some Chinese carry out in to them about half an hour ago, but there's been no contact from inside the lab." Patterson shrugged into his uniform greatcoat as he continued. "We're monitoring the testing as best we can from out here but none of us knows how long Dr. Brahms will abuse the processor before she decides it'll work. We're just waiting like everyone else."

Janeway laughed quietly. "As much as I'm glad Seven made the breakthrough, I'm not sure I'm happy that she'll be working with TPG on the prototype. The only other person in the quadrant who works as long as she does when she's immersed in research is Leah Brahms. The two of them working together means I may not see my wife again for months."

Paris grinned. "Not particularly good news for newlyweds, eh?"

Janeway winced ruefully. "No, it's not."

Dinner was pleasant and the restaurant everything that Gaeka Pedersen had promised. Halfway through her lobster tails, Janeway told the story of Seven's first date on _**Voyager**_ and her difficulty in dealing with 'exoskeletons'. By the time she finished, Admiral Patterson had begun to choke with laughter and McDeere had to thump him on the back a few times to get him breathing again.

When they returned to the Institute, there was still no word from the secured lab. Janeway tried to break through the security shield on the COMM system using several tricks Seven had taught her and finally, after nearly half an hour a brief message flashed across Pedersen's COMM unit.

_Kathryn – _

_Stop attempting to breach my security encryptions; you will not succeed. Testing goes well. Dinner was not as good as Xinh Xao's. Do not worry; I will speak with you tomorrow. _

_Seven._

"Well, at least we know one of them is still alive. That's good news," commented Admiral Patterson.

"So are the three of you planning on staying here until they come out?" asked Janeway.

"I can't speak for the Admirals, but I'm not leaving until they do. This is too important to the Institute for me not to be here."

"And it's too important to Starfleet for _us_ not to be here."

"Well then, I guess I'd better take my wife's advice and head home. I'll be in my offices tomorrow. Somebody call me when they come up for air, will you?"

With that, Janeway and McDeere took their leave, walking through the frigid Cambridge winter's night to the transport station, their breath frosting in the still air as they discussed their covert plans to equip the fleet. As they entered the transport station Janeway's COMM badge chirped.

"Shelby to Captain Janeway."

Kathryn looked at her First Officer with a wry grin. "This can't be good news." Tapping her badge she answered the hail. "Janeway here, Commander. What can I do for you?"

"How fast can you get to Headquarters? Admiral Nechayev and I would like to meet with you."

"McDeere and I are in the transport station in Cambridge now. We can be there in a few minutes."

"I'll inform the Admiral. We'll meet in her office suite. Shelby out."

Jordan grinned at her C.O. "You can always count on Starfleet to change your plans." They stepped on the pads and requested Starfleet Headquarters.

* * *

"Enter!"

Janeway and McDeere stepped through the doorway of Admiral Nechayev's office and came to attention in front of her desk.

"At ease, ladies. Shelby went back to her office to get some additional test data." Nechayev rose and waved them over to a conversation area as her aide entered with a large pot of fresh coffee. "I have to agree with Kate Pulaski, Jordan; the red of command _does_ look better on you than staff gold ever did."

"Thank you, Admiral. It feels good to be wearing it again."

"Captain Janeway, help yourself to coffee. If I remember correctly you're a tea drinker too aren't you, Jordan? The samovar is hot. Why don't you get us some tea? I'll have the Kusmi Zubrovka blend and there's some Earl Grey as well." As the women settled into the comfortable chairs with their drinks, Shelby walked in carrying several PADDs.

"Oh good, you're here." She began handing the PADDs around. "These are the latest sensor net simulation results. Read them over quickly while I get something to drink."

Nechayev was familiar with the data already, but Janeway and McDeere took a moment to read over the reports as Shelby fixed herself a cup of coffee and joined them. She spoke first.

"As you can see, we haven't been successful in configuring our sensor arrays to give any kind of meaningful warning on the opening of Borg transwarp exit apertures. The net technology is simply not sensitive enough to pick up the tri-quantum waves early enough."

"We'd suspected as much when we first spoke about configuring the arrays," said Janeway neutrally.

"I've informed Admiral Nechayev earlier this evening that I've failed in my charge to configure our quadrant sensor arrays. There is no known protocol I can use to make them work as we need them to. Admiral, at this point I'd appreciate it if you would tell Captain Janeway and Commander McDeere what you told me."

"I'll do better than that, Shelby. Captain Janeway, I owe you and your wife my deepest apologies. I allowed my personal pain to interfere with my duty and what should have been impartial judgments of who and what was best suited to protect this quadrant from a Borg incursion. The politicians will never change their minds until they're looking at an armada of Borg cubes in orbit around Earth. But we need to act now before there is an actual threat. So, Captain Janeway, I apologize. Whenever I have the opportunity, I'll apologize to your wife as well. Starfleet needs your help and we need it very soon. Will you help us?"

Janeway hesitated a moment, reluctant to reveal the other officers involved in their plans. "What would you have us do, Admiral?"

"I suspect that your wife can supply us with the schematics for quite a bit of the illegal hardware, weapons and armor with which _**Voyager**_ arrived back home. The same weaponry, shields and propulsion that got you through a Borg transwarp hub safely."

"That technology was declared illegal by the Department of Temporal Affairs and Investigations and destroyed, Admiral."

"It won't be illegal if Seven re-invents it. We'll bring the politicians and Temporal Affairs around eventually, but what do you need from me right now, Captain?"

"Give us a free hand in refitting the fleet we're sending against the Borg. Assign Seven to the refit team as a civilian consultant and keep the pencil-pushers and bean counters off out of our hair so we can equip the fleet to survive against the Borg."

"Done. Effective tomorrow morning, in addition to your duties as Fleet Commander, Kathryn, you'll be named Director of Special Projects at Utopia Planetia Shipyards. You'll answer only to me and you'll have only one special project: the outfitting of our battle fleets to go against the Borg. Anything else?"

"I'd like Admirals Patterson and Paris brought on board. Their directorates can give us some critical support."

"I'll take care of that first thing tomorrow. If I might suggest Admirals Ross and Chapman as well? Both of their directorates will be able to contribute to the project. Admiral Quinn will support you in whatever you need as well. Do you think it's too early to bring your fellow Fleet Captains on board with your plans?"

Janeway flushed slightly. "They're already committed to the project, Admiral. They have been since we first thought of it."

"So you and your fellow Fleet Captains were prepared to be charged with mutiny rather than go along with Starfleet policies?"

"Admiral, sometimes Starfleet needs to saved from itself. And I've been reliably informed that it's not mutiny, it's barratry."

Nechayev looked at McDeere and gave a small smile. "Commander, you've only been re-instated for a couple of days. You were on board with this hair-brained scheme too?"

Jordan grinned and said only, "Admiral, I've already been tried for mutiny. I figured barratry was a step up. Besides, it doesn't take a plasma physicist to figure out that if we tried to go up against the Borg equipped with only current technology we'd be assimilated pretty quickly. That wasn't my idea of a good time either."

"Anything else you'll need, Captain?"

"I'd like to include Captain Martin in our plans. He's the new security chief at Utopia Planetia; he can do a lot to insure that what shouldn't be seen won't be."

"Very well. Do you want my office to handle that or will you see to it?"

"I'd like to take care of it myself. Jordan, can you think of anything else we'll need right away?"

McDeere shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Nechayev recognized the signs immediately and stepped in.

"Out with it, Commander. Now is not the time to be hesitant."

"Admiral, we can't go through Logistics and Supply for this. Lieutenant Commander Nixon and Lieutenant DiCampo are both political animals. Their priorities will always be to their careers first and Starfleet second. I don't mean to impugn their loyalty, but I don't think they can be trusted with a secret this critical either."

"Acknowledged, Commander. What would you suggest?"

"Give me Ensign Chase from L&S and let me use Ensign Radcliffe occasionally. With the two of them I can handle the materials acquisitions for the refit. I won't have that much to do before _**Boudicca**_ is ready for space trials anyway."

"Jordan, are you sure? That's a huge job." Janeway was worried that her new first Officer was taking on too much.

"Don't worry, Captain. Ensign Chase is extremely competent. Nixon has never realized that; neither has DiCampo. Believe me, she's more than capable of keeping the requisitions flowing like they'll need to. With Radcliffe's help we can do it."

"She'll be reassigned in the morning as well. I assume we'll keep this all back channel? How are you communicating?"

"My aide is encrypting notes in regular transmissions."

"Send him up here in the morning and have him take me through the encryption process. Once I get it down, I'll teach the other Admirals. How soon can we expect Seven to be ready to transfer in?"

"She and Dr. Brahms are running preliminary testing on the new processor right now. I assume once Dr. Brahms is satisfied, she'll move quickly to get a prototype under construction. I would think Seven would be transferring to TPG on Mars fairly soon." She turned to Shelby. "I'll have her download the sensor schematics first thing, Commander. That will give you the time you need to upgrade the arrays and get them configured like they'll need to be."

Shelby nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Captain. And thank Seven for me."

"Will she be able to assist in the refit and work on the slipstream drive as well?" queried Nechayev.

"Sometimes I think Seven is capable of almost anything. But yes, I believe she can. She can help my Engineering Chief with the initial schematics and that will get us started. I don't believe that it will take TPG a long time to get a prototype drive up and working. Once they're in space trials Seven will have more time to help us."

"All right. That seems to cover everything. If you run up against any problems we haven't thought of contact me immediately. We're going to need every minute we can get to equip the fleets properly. If you need more staff at the shipyards or anything else any of you can think of, let me know. Clear?"

"Yes, sir!" chorused all three women. In minutes Janeway and McDeere were walking through the doors of Starfleet Headquarters and into the cool San Francisco night.

"Do you have to go back to Mars tonight? I didn't even ask…where are you living, Jordan?"

"I'm in BOQ at Utopia Planetia. Have been since I was posted to Supply. It was just easier that way."

Janeway grinned up at the taller woman. "Well, you outrank everybody else in the BOQ now I'd guess. Why don't we get you some suitable quarters off base tomorrow? I can't have my First Officer living in a dorm like an Academy cadet. Doesn't look good."

McDeere chuckled quietly. "Aye, Captain."

"In the meantime, you're welcome to spend the night at our place. We've got a couple of guest rooms and when I'm alone there I always feel like I'm rattling around."

"You sure it's no trouble?"

"Not a bit. There's no need to wait for the last shuttle. We can go back in the morning. I might even be able to dig up a couple of drinks if you'd like. And it's time you called me Kathryn."

"Aye aye, Captain. Lead on."

* * *

The next morning, McDeere and Janeway stopped at a local bistro for breakfast before they headed for the transport center and their morning shuttle to Mars. When they arrived in the office, McDeere sat down with Radcliffe and set about acquiring quarters suitable for her restored rank and Janeway took a conference call from Admiral Nechayev's office regarding the armaments for the Fleet.

Once Ethan had the commander in touch with the proper staff at base housing, he turned his attentions to getting Harry Kim and Tom Paris billeted at the Vulcan Institute for a month-long Advanced Tactical training class. Tuvok had arranged for them to be included in the next available session and they were scheduled to depart on a transport the next morning. Radcliffe was also neck deep in insuring that his favorite flower girl had adequate care while her father was on Vulcan and her mother was overseeing _**Voyager's**_ engineering refit at the shipyards; although from what Commander McDeere told him she would soon be overseeing far more than just that.

The plans he'd put together involved moving the lieutenant and Miral into temporary quarters on Mars where he, Karri Jameson, and Max could pitch in if they were needed. While he hadn't asked, he suspected that Captain Janeway wouldn't have a problem with Miral spending half an hour or so in the office occasionally if the situation warranted. After all, Miral was special to all of them.

When he was satisfied that his plans for Miral were acceptable, he forwarded his proposal to Lieutenant Torres and checked on the status of things at MIT-Daystrom. He delivered a fresh pot of coffee and the MIT-Daystrom status update to the captain and a pot of tea to the exec before heading to his meeting with Admiral Nechayev.

The Admiral proved to be a quick study and had mastered the encryption algorithms fairly quickly. The lessons would have been absorbed even more rapidly had not Radcliffe been completely intimidated by the daunting Vice-Admiral and spent a considerable amount of time stuttering his instructions. Nechayev did not seem to mind; in fact, she seemed mildly amused at the entire process. Terrorizing ensigns appeared to be one of her favorite pastimes.

On his way back to the transport center, he stopped by the COMM center and put in yet another status query to MIT-Daystrom. Coffee, tea and breakfast had been beamed in around 0830 hours and the empty pots and cups beamed back out a half hour later. Dr. Pedersen and the Admirals had taken this as a good sign that both researchers were still functional and Radcliffe promised to relay the information back to Captain Janeway immediately on his arrival back at their Mars offices.

Moments after he reported back in and passed the current status report to Janeway Ensign Chase arrived carrying a transport tote with her personal items and sporting a wide grin. Radcliffe introduced himself and helped her settle her things in the outer office opposite his. Commander McDeere stuck her head in to welcome their latest recruit.

"Welcome aboard, Chase."

"Thank you, Commander. You'll never know how grateful I am for you getting me out of L&S."

"And how did Lieutenant Commander Nixon react to news of your new assignment?"

Chase grinned from ear to ear. "Total warp core breach. He threatened me with disciplinary action until Admiral Nechayev called him and informed him that I was being assigned to a top secret project that was above his clearance level. Then he just got pissed off and told me to get the hell out of the office. So I did. Within three minutes."

McDeere laughed. "You left him high and dry? Sucks to be him, doesn't it? Well, come with me for a minute and let me officially introduce you to the captain we're all working for."

Jordan took Chase down to Janeway's office and formally introduced them. Janeway's morning was considerably improved when she got to go through her "At ease before you sprain something" shtick and even moreso by the fact that her mere presence reduced Chase to a stuttering automaton. Apparently, terrorizing ensigns was a popular pastime for_ many_ senior Starfleet officers.

* * *

The Admirals and Dr. Pedersen were waiting in the corridor when the door of Seven's lab opened and she and Dr. Brahms emerged, both looking a bit worse for wear.

Dr. Brahms gave a sharp nod to the Admirals. "She's got it. We'll need to bring Dr. Hansen and her team to TPG to begin work on a prototype drive as quickly as possible. If things go smoothly we should have a test craft ready to go in a little over a month." Turning back to Seven she extended her hand. "Congratulations, Dr. Hansen. You've just propelled the Federation into a new era of space travel. I look forward to working with you."

Seven shook the outstretched hand and thanked the distinguished scientist. They agreed to a conference call later in the afternoon to set up the transfer of personnel to TPG and then Dr. Brahms and the Admirals took their leave.

Gaeka Pederson grinned at her staff member. "Congratulations again, Dr. Hansen. I know you've got to meet with your lab staff about reassignments, but would you mind coming down to my office for about half an hour? There are some documents we need to file."

Seven agreed and a few minutes later found herself seated at Pedersen's conference table opposite three of the Institute's attorneys.

"Dr. Hansen, I had our legal department draw these up right after I notified Starfleet of your breakthrough. My assistant will notarize your signature on them and we'll file them with the local Federation Judicial offices this afternoon. They formally register your patents for the YHz processor and the interlink and registers your and Lieutenant Torres' patent for the deflector interface."

Seven interrupted her at this juncture, pointing out that the deflector interface had been B'Elanna's creation, not hers. Her original ideas had been expanded greatly by the talented engineer and Seven thought B'Elanna should benefit from the designs. Pedersen and the attorneys agreed to contact B'Elanna regarding the deflector interface. Seven signed off on the documents with her thumbprint and it was duly notarized by Pedersen's assistant. The lawyers left to file the documents at that point and Seven and Dr. Pedersen adjourned to a nearby sofa for some bracing tea.

"Do you have a financial account yet, Dr. Hansen?"

"No, there has been no need so far."

"Well, you'd better have your wife help you get one established. Once we contract to have your processors mass produced, you're going to need some place to stash your royalties."

"My royalties?" Seven had only a rudimentary knowledge of finance; it had never been an issue in the Collective and since her return to Earth, she had been absorbed into the Janeway clan.

It was then that Gaeka Pedersen realized that she was dealing with an innocent and vowed to make sure no unscrupulous business people took advantage of Seven. Gently, she explained what was going to happen.

"Seven, once we register your processor and interlink patents you're going to be besieged by companies trying to contract to manufacture them. You need to realize that your processor will have a huge impact on nearly every facet of life in this quadrant. Billions of them will be utilized. And, as their inventor, you are entitled to a royalty payment for each and every one of them. You are going to be very, _very_ wealthy Dr. Hansen."

"Wealthy? _Me?_" Seven was stunned at this news. Her only concern had been getting the processor to work so that Kathryn would have the drive to travel back to the Delta quadrant and fight the Collective. That she might also profit monetarily from it had never occurred to her. "I… I will speak with Kathryn about it this evening."

"Good. She'll be able to help you prepare. I'll have our legal department take point on the contractual issues and we'll do everything we can to assist you in setting up the manufacturing contracts. Once news of this gets out – and it will get out very quickly – the bidding will begin. You need to be ready. As I said, we'll assist you in any way possible."

"Thank you, Dr. Pedersen. May I have Kathryn contact you with any questions she might have?"

"Of course. Now, how many of your lab assistants will you want to transition to TPG with you?"

* * *

Radcliffe stuck his head into Janeway's office mid-afternoon.

"I just heard from MIT-Daystrom. Dr. Brahms has signed off on the processor. There's a conference call this afternoon to arrange personnel transfers to TPG. I'm supposed to tell you that your wife will call you as soon as the conference is finished. I've notified Captains Picard and Ryker that the admirals are on board. Commander McDeere will be moving into new quarters in the morning. Oh, and Dr. Hansen says you'll need to help her set up a financial account."

Janeway looked confused for a moment. "Financial account? Whatever for?"

"She said something about royalties for the processor and interlink."

It was then that the enormity of what Seven had created hit Janeway fully. This yotta hertz processor was going to be incorporated into upgrades for _everything_ that relied on computers and CPUs to function. And that was almost everything in the quadrant. It dawned on Kathryn that Seven worked at a civilian facility and that she had patent rights to whatever her research developed. If the Institute had filed patent applications on Seven's behalf, she was about to become wealthy beyond imagination. Setting up a financial account for her wife became an instant priority. She made a mental note to contact Gretchen about the Taylor trust and its financial overseers that very night.

_**TBC**_


End file.
